God's Hand and Destiny's Chains
by Sareth-the-lost-one
Summary: Jacob Broadsky  prepares for another hit to shift the balance between good and evil, but someone forestalls him. Who and why? When he figures out, his destiny evolves in another direction. - Story is tied into the events of the episodes from seas. 6.
1. Chapter 1

-Disclaimer: I don't own anything of the original setting and characters, only the ideas of this story. No copyright infringement intended-

PLEASE notify me if you discover anything weird in my English, for I'm no native speaker, big thanks

**God's hand and Destiny's chains**

**Chapter 1**

(This is set 3 weeks after the episode „The killer in the crosshairs")

The hotel room was bathed in a beautiful sunset, letting the creamy white and turquoise decoration glow. The place breathed the decent luxury a five-star accommodation should bear. There was nothing only remotely reminding at cheap, not authentic or superfluous things. It provided a perfect shelter from the imperfection, ugliness and deceit of the outside world. An almost perfect one… for the heart and mind of the room's occupant could not be gilded, tinted in pastel colors or bathed in poetic sunsets.

Jacob Broadsky stood in front of the mirror and studied his reflection. The injuries the splitting rifle had caused had healed nicely, only some small reddish scars still crossed the right side of his face. The past three weeks he had had time to tend wounds, oh yes. Showing a low profile and covering tracks had been of the essence, after the FBI with 'pit bull' Booth was on his heels! However, Jacob was a skilled man, and he had resources and contacts. He managed to disappear from the picture and observed the hunt for him from afar, logging in secret police files now and then.

However, now the time to keep a low profile was eventually over! He had to take this scab of a corrupt cop finally out! Broadsky reached for his shirt. No, he was not the man to take money and do not his assigned job, even if the money was secondary. He wouldn't simply let a bad guy escape, only because the FBI thought to botch at his trade!

The tiny Jing-medallion around his neck vanished under the shirt, but he rested for a moment, holding the fingers on top of it. Through the fabric, he could sense the sinus shape of his part of the medallion. The other half had been at Paula's necklace… and had been buried with her.

_Paula_, he thought again, still hurt as if the news of her death had just reached him. This wound would never heal, not even in years. Jacob knew very well.

_How could you do this?_ He asked the question at which Booth had not answered when he first met him. Well, he would meet him again. It was inevitable. Maybe he would answer then… and explain how a human being could be that careless, unaffected and blind.

He slipped into his jacket and adjusted his tie.

Maybe, he stated, it was the symptoms of the same sickness this whole system of so-called justice was infected with! They didn't look at the victims anymore. They only looked at their books and regulations, through whose gaps the bad guys easily slipped, a laugh at their face! The more money one of the evil-doers provided, the more likely it was he got away with everything: forgery, rape, even murder.

Their lawyers were astute, and if the defendant was prominent and rich, they hauled him out of the deepest crap. If nothing did help, they lied and cheated and bribed.

He was sick of this so-called justice. And he was sick of listening to the henchmen of this justice blabbering about the right to kill, about good and evil and so on. What greater right did THEY have to take a killer, rapist or whatever out? They were right because the government and the legal system had invested them with that right? What a joke!

Jacob took his suitcase, switched the lights off and opened the door.

They let a man who had killed a family with little children walk free – where was the right and wrong in this case? And afterwards, they hid behind regulations and orders.

The door fell shut.

Jacob Broadsky was on the hunt again. He did hide behind nothing and no one. His orders were not spoken by other men, mired in corruption up to their noses. _I have a clean conscience_, he repeated in his mind.

…

Flickering city lights filled the darkness like colorful spots a black canvas. Not a very good time for a sniper. Nevertheless, what had to be done had to be done. And this was probably the last chance, he would get to ice this man! There was a rumor he would leave the country.

Jacob lay stretched out on a metal strut in the upper part of a construction area, secured by a mountaineering harness. The rifle he had acquired and then adjusted during the past weeks, pointed down in a 40 degree angle. He had never shot from such a position, not counted the practicing of the last days. However, this hadn't been quite the same.

He glanced at his watch. It was 8.40. His target was down there in the bar, enjoying his life after the acquittal. _But not for much longer… _

Broadsky wasn't afraid the FBI could step in between this time. He had been very careful to lure them on a false track, and he knew, that they were unaware of his true whereabouts. This had meant he had to skip another target – but well, one after the other, and this man down there was next on the list!

He shifted his position to one providing a little bit more comfort. Now, nothing remained but to wait. As far as he had figured out, the target usually stayed in this location for 2 to 3 hours. The later he walked out, the better, because fewer people crossed the area.

….

10.20. The street was still bustling with activity. Despite his special clothes, Jacob began to freeze. Some minor pain was nagging in several parts of his body, too, caused by the uncomfortable position on the strut. He had experienced worse, though. If he had to quit tonight, because he wasn't in the condition anymore to hit the target with a clean shot, he would do so rather than risking collateral damage. However, still he was in perfect shape and master of the situation.

The bar's door opened again. A couple walked out, slightly drunk. Another guy vanished inside. Down on the road, an ambulance siren shrieked. Noise was something that did not disturb the sniper in any way. He had been trained to keep things like gunfire, exploding bombs and other nice stuff out of his conscience while he stared through the scope.

There! His target left the bar!

Broadsky's whole being was focused on his task now. Another step further… Yes. The victim wasn't stable on his feet anymore; his movements were quite erratic, what made it more difficult to lock on. Ah… now he had to throw up… good… perfect… clean … posi-

The man broke in his knees. The red puddle forming beneath him left no doubt about the cause of his fall.

_What the hell…_

Jacob took his finger from the trigger, which he hadn't pulled back yet. Who had fired that shot? He retreated as fast as he could from his too vulnerable position. Down below, already a crowd of agitated and hysteric people gathered. For sure someone had called the police!

While hastily loosening the mountaineering harness, Jacob saw a black shadow hushing over the roof of the already completed part of the building some meters below him. No doubt, this had been the other sniper! He had to know who was messing with his business! Without another thought, Broadsky grabbed his precious weapon again, fastened it on his back and jumped down. The sound of his touchdown, followed by the metallic click of the unshackling rope alarmed the other sniper for sure. The person sprinted away from the sound. Jacob could pinpoint it. He knew this construction area, and in the place where they were now, only two possibilities for escape existed. He ran to block the first and easiest option and catch his opponent there.

Whoever it was - he was fast and with his black body suit and mask perfectly clad for this area! He had almost reached the scaffolding's platform again. In between the multiple layers of struts, it would be impossible to catch him! Jacob lunged forward with one final effort and grasped the opponent's right leg from behind. However, he landed that hard that he nearly lost his grip again. And the other one struggled and tried to get free. But he wasn't strong enough. The next moment had Jacob pushed him down eventually and held him in a firm grip.

"Who are you?"

Gasping for air, the stranger tried to turn his head and see his captor.

"Jacob?"

He was double startled. On one hand, because it had been the voice of a youngster or a woman, on the other, because it had said his name. He reached out and tore the mask from the strangers face. A woman indeed. And as far as he could discern…

"I don't think we have met before," he said without loosening his grip.

"'Course we have. Only then I wore brackets and had a punk haircut! It's me, man! Destiny Bennett!"

Now he let her go. "Robert's daughter."

"Yes." A little smile crossed her face. "The one who stole your dog tag."

"I haven't forgotten. What for heaven's sake are you doing up on this roof and taking a guy out who was my prey?"

"C'mon, you're not a cop either, are you?"

"That's a different thing," Jacob answered. A police siren sounded from the distance, and it was closing in very fast. "We should move," he continued, "or we will get in unwelcome trouble!"

Destiny was on her feet already. Jacob pointed in another direction. "We climb down over there, through the elevator shaft!"

While Broadsky could find his way through the nightly tangle of construction platforms, struts and concrete parts fast, thanks to his night vision gear, his new companion had problems. Destiny might be a good sniper – considering her age an almost perfect one, he thought – however, she hadn't made the right preparations for her hit. This would've proven fatal, if she hadn't run into him! One time he could only prevent her from slipping and falling some meters down in the very last second.

"This is not a business for little girls!" Jacob hissed through his teeth, hauling her up again.

"I'm a Sergeant of the Marine Corps!" Destiny replied angry. "Believe me, I already kicked some asses!"

"Tonight you would've kicked your own!" He made a gesture in the direction of the gathered police force at the street facing side of the building. "They would've got you, because you did not secure your retreat."

"Fuck it!" Destiny crawled beneath the hoarding. "At least I iced the bastard who killed my friend!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Down in the basement of the adjacent building, Jacob Broadsky hastily changed his night dark fighting suit into formal business attire.

"I assume you haven't thought of some inconspicuous clothing for the retreat?" he asked, seeing Destiny knocking the mud from her boots. The rest of her outfit was similarly stained with mud and sand from the construction area.

"No."

"What DID you think about, for heaven's sake?"

"Nothing!" she barked now. "I wanted this scum dead! That's all!"

"Do you have a place to stay?"

She threw her hair back and sighed. The denial was visible enough in her features.

"You'll come with me, then! I won't let the daughter of an old comrade sit in the crap!" Jacob decided.

"It's dark; I'll manage to sneak out."

"You know, the last one I met counting on the darkness…" answered Jacob, "…was perforated by hostile fire one second later! – What do you wear underneath?"

"What?"

"You don't look like teddy bear panties." He slipped in his jacket. "We have no time! Get out of this suit! I assure you I've already seen half naked girls."

The young woman shrugged, and then peeled the dirty clothes off her body. A black sports bra showed up, and short black leggings. Yes, more or less what Jacob had hoped!

"This will do it. Now let's hurry! The door over there leads to the parking deck."

Her clothes disappeared in the bag, too.

They ran towards their destination.

"So, how is old Hawkeye Bennett?" Broadsky asked while they raced up the stairs.

"Pa died. Four months ago. Cancer."

The unexpected answer hit Jacob like a shot. _Hawkeye? The always joyous Hawkeye with his rumbling laugh was … dead? _Another hole had been ripped in the tightly knot carpet of their old team. _I should've visited him, dammit!_

They reached the parking dock. Jacob pushed all other thoughts back and looked around.

"Clear. Let's go!" He threw his coat over Destiny's shoulders and put the arm around her.

"Now smile and act as if I was the best fish you could get on your hook tonight! There's a new car coming!"

…

FBI special agent Booth shoved the content of his dish from one corner to the other, only now and then picking something up. As beautiful as this Indian restaurant might be – and his companion Tempe was not less beautiful – he couldn't surmount his dark musings. They had planned this dinner for weeks. No, this was not exact, for months, and they had carefully removed any obstacle in its way. However, now he was close to smash the atmosphere completely.

"What is it?" Tempe finally asked a strong undercurrent of worry in her voice.

"I don't want to ruin this evening…"

"Well, you do this already, so…" She smiled and he sighed.

"There's a suspension hanging over my neck, that's it."

"On what ground?" Now she had forgotten her dessert, too.

"You remember the night we were after Broadsky to prevent his kill in the Courthouse? Somehow the whole thing sipped through to his supposed victim's lawyer. And now she threatens to file a charge against me for willingly risking his client's life!"

"Absurd!"

"Is it?" Booth huffed and shook his head. "I wonder about all this since I got the letter this morning. What if I hadn't been that one second faster than Broadsky? I put someone in danger indeed, just to bring another person down."

He had spoken loud enough to make the people from the table nearby turn their heads more or less discretely. Now the FBI agent gave then a forced smile.

"You told me yourself once, in your position there can't be something as second guessing your choices. You did what you thought to be right to stop a dangerous criminal." Tempe had meant to say something reassuring and comforting. However, she hit the wrong nerve.

"That might exactly be what Broadsky would say! – Excuse me, I…" The ringing cell phone interrupted him. While listening to the inaudible voice at the other end, his features changed in a way his companion new all too well. Bad news!

Some minutes passed, until he lowered the phone again and looked at her, whispering:

"The sniper has hit again. Successfully."

…

At the same time, a worn out door was locked in a cheap hotel in one of the rather infamous districts of Washington. The noise sounding from one of the other rooms nearby let absolutely no doubt who this establishment's primary customers were. Jacob walked to the window and closed it.

"Very good place," Destiny commented sarcastically, checking the tracks of violence at the old door.

"The one where no one asks any questions." He put his suitcase down and placed his jacket over the chair. "And surely better than a brig."

Destiny sat on one of the beds, which produced a squeaky sound, and searched for something in her pockets. A moment later, she held a crumbled cigarette package in her fingers.

"Smoking is not a good habit for a sniper," Jacob warned in watching her. "Gives you shaky hands when you absolutely don't need them."

The young woman didn't answer. The fact that she lightened the butt nonetheless, made obvious enough that she gave a damn about it.

"I'm sorry about your Dad," Broadsky said after a while.

"He hadn't to witness how I screwed up everything, after all," Destiny replied, blowing the smoke through the air in a nearly aggressive way. Then she turned around to her companion, who sat on the chair at the window, in his undershirt, busy with cleaning his weapon. Jacob was only three years younger than Robert Bennett, and still he was the well trained, agile, perfectly orchestrated ensemble of muscles. Just like her father had been. And in the end, only a frail shadow had lay in the hospital bed. She averted her gaze, feeling miserable. When she had finished her cigarette, she simply stretched out on the mattress and covered her face with her arm.

Jacob put his weapon aside and switched the light off. The window had only a thin curtain, and from the building across the street flickered rhythmic red and white neon light into the room. Seeing Destiny lying there, he felt painfully reminded at Paula. The shape of her back, the dark hair… _It was not fair that she had to die! You lied to her, Booth! You lied to her just to get your hand on me! You knew damned well that I hadn't killed this girl from the escort service!_ He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. Somehow the steady noise from the street was humming him into sleep, despite the on and off honking and yelling and the uncomfortable sitting position. But one time trained to survive amidst ongoing battles, he could find rest anywhere.

Destiny's anxious moaning startled him an unknown time later that night. With two hasty steps, he was at her side to wake her. Sobbing, she clasped onto him, without realizing what was happening.

"Hey… Destiny? … Everything is okay."

"I thought it was a Taliban, I swear I thought it to be one!" she cried.

"Calm down. Destiny?… Whatever happened, it's okay now."

Jacob's voice was finally reaching through the haze of her nightmare. She pushed him back, wiped over her face. "O God… shit!" She tried to hold her tears, but didn't succeed.

"Don't worry. Just let go." He stroke over her back.

"We were on our way the whole day already! We were tired, we were all tired!" The word seemed to be dragged out of her against her will. She fought against the memory, but at this moment, it had a life on its own and struggled to get free. "We had an attack warning. So far, we hadn't met any enemies, the whole village was deserted. Then there was a shot from somewhere, I don't know… It was getting dark already. I heard something and … and shouted 'hands up' and 'get out'. And then I shot!" Destiny covered her face again. "It was a boy, Jacob! It was only a little boy! And I shot him!"

He mused what he could say to ease her pain, but nothing came into his mind. He had seen some similar situations. It was war. It happened. In war there was no time to filter one particular target out of the mass, to calculate everything. And even then… collateral damage just happened.

"Dexter was the only one who cared for me then," she continued. "He worked at the rehab center here in Washington… And then… he was killed by this bastard JUST FOR FUN!" The angry shout had taken her last reserves. She leaned back with a sigh and shut her eyes again.

"That's why you were out for revenge."

"And you?"

A moment passed in silence, before Jacob simply stated: "Because it was his turn."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

A soft rain poured down from the cloudy Washington sky, interrupted by a loud splashing sound now and then, when the stuffed cullies flew over.

Wrapped in Jacob Broadsky's jacket, Destiny Bennet sat at the half open window and smoked. The weather seemed to mirror her sinister thoughts, while she stared down on the early morning street life.

"So, you help along, when one of the bad guys does not kick the bucket fast enough? That's your job?" she asked without turning around, still digesting what Jacob had told her some minutes ago.

"I'd rather call it a profession," he answered, returning from the small bath. "Like being a soldier."

"You are none now."

"I joined the Corps because I thought it my duty to defend the men, women and children of our country against heinous assaults. Do you think this responsibility has just ceased to exist because I had to chuck in my military career?"

At the moment, Destiny was too tired to think about such stuff. However, the part of her already awake, the part not yet pissed off by life, remembered very well how she had admired her father's comrade Jacob twelve years ago. The war hero; the one who managed to get through a hail of bullets unharmed and save lives already thought lost. No, she mused, flipping the butt down on the street, she hadn't only admired him. She had adored him.

Her teenage fantasies raised a little half smile. Now she was grown up and her bright hero had taken a sad, dark color, like the lone ranger of the comic books, eternally fighting the evil doers while hidden in the shadows himself…

"I survived where countless others did not," Jacob continued while dressing. "I had skills others had not. For a reason! How could I possibly walk by uninterested, only because the crime and injustice was right in front of me, in my own country? I went off to defend these people in Iraq and Afghanistan, and I should close my eyes when I come home? This will never happen!"

"But you risk your life for people you don't even know!" Destiny turned around, not sure if she should still admire him or think he was crazy.

"I always did."

The young woman watched him packing his bag and making order in the shabby room. Every movement seemed calm and determined, without superfluous agitation.

"Listen, Destiny, I want you to catch the next train or bus out of the town, as far away as possible. I'll get you a few thousand Dollars, and you'll start a new life."

"I can't take money from you! You're… one of Dad's best friends!" she warded off.

Jacob put both hands on her shoulders. "Don't react like a stubborn kid. I always liked you. And I want you to forget while you still can."

In the first second, Destiny was all uprising, ready to burst out she could take care of herself. But then her senses realized how good it felt to have someone caring for her, listening, or simply being present. Since the awful things in Afghanistan, she hated it to be alone in a quiet room – and nearly every room was too quiet if you are alone and had nightmares! Just a moment longer… sensing his comforting warm hands… imagining being a child in safety and everything would turn out well…

…

The 3-D-image turned slowly on the huge screen, presenting its simple geometric beauty to the observers from all sides.

"Well," Dr. Saroyan started, "this is the bullet we found in the victim's back. Standard Hollow-Point. No gimmicks, no anything."

Agent Booth watched one round more on the screen, and then he had found a conclusion – at least for himself: "This was not Broadsky."

Cam Saroyan raised her eyebrows and gave him a mischievous smile. "Because it is too simple, or what?"

"Exactly. It's good, but not excellent. It's a decent piece of work, but not Broadsky's artwork."

Saroyan's and Tempe Brennan's faces made obvious they couldn't share his allusive terminology. "Maybe he wanted to lead you astray with a little simplicity?"

"No. I'm sure it wasn't him. I have this… kind of feeling."

"What then? A copycat?" Tempe took the papers from the investigation and browsed through them.

"I hope this doesn't become epidemic…" grumbled the FBI agent angrily. The stress caused by his pending suspension had not vanished by now, and a case like this was the last thing he needed. And of course, not only a lawyer had her nose in the stuff now, but the press as well! This would only mean more unwanted eyes of the public on ALL of the sniper cases they had had until now – more eyes on him demanding justification! Crap!

Seeley Booth felt unease. Maybe it was, because he pondered about 'justification' himself for days now. He didn't like that as well. He was on the good side; he had to preserve law and order! The proud embossed statement in the FBI-Headquarters visually echoed through his memory. "Our mission is to help protect you, your children, your communities, and your businesses from the most dangerous threats facing our nation—from international and domestic terrorists to spies on U.S. soil…from cyber villains to corrupt government officials…from mobsters to violent street gangs…from child predators to serial killers." _I__'__m on the right side!_

"Hey? Did you hear what I said?" The glances of the two women were directed at him and he cleared his throat. "We'll check the ballistic parameters now. I think, the shot was fired down from this construction area here…" Dr. Saroyan pointed at the zoomified satellite image on another screen. "This would provide a good cover, at least. But we'll check with Angela."

"Yes. Good." Booth suppressed a yawn. "I need a strong coffee!" But before he had even reached the coffee machine in the corner of the spacious office, his cell phone rang. The status report he got was nothing to cheer him up.

"The lead we had on Broadsky in Miami was a fake," he told his colleagues a moment later. "He wasn't even near this place!" He muttered a curse. "So, let's see what Angela has to say about all this! I'll have a team ready to beat the bushes in this construction area!"

If Jacob Broadsky was behind this, he would get him this time, the FBI agent made a pledge. And if he wasn't he would get him nonetheless! The line between good and evil had to be retightened!

…

While the FBI still conducted its investigations two days later, Jacob Broadsky sat in a hotel in Springfield and had just dialed the number of a potential customer of his services. Mrs. Reinsberg lived reclusive in the suburb, after her daughter had been raped and killed in the most vicious way three years ago. The delinquent had been caught – and he turned out to be the nephew of a high ranking politician. Huge sums had changed their owner, as far as Jacob already knew. At the moment, it looked to nearly a hundred percent sure that the guy would get away with a sentence to psychiatric confinement (in an expensive clinic in Switzerland) and maybe go into hiding completely.

However, not as long as Jacob had still a high class sniper rifle and his famous skills!

The woman at the other end of the line wept and sniffed. "My poor little girl, my darling! She had just got her college degree, you know, when… when… - I would give everything to see this man getting the punishment he deserves!"

_Is there really something as a fitting punishment, _Jacob wondered. Maybe the precise bullet of a sniper was far too good for this man; it would spare him the pain, anguish and agony. Nonetheless, it was all HE could do in this matter! "I'll see to it he goes straight to hell, Madam."

"Who are you?" Her voice was trembling with anxiety, relief and awe. She desperately desired a wonder of this kind; a lightning from heaven crushing the criminal.

"The hand of God," whispered Jacob and terminated the connection. The receiver fell back with an almost too loud sound, then again only the birds singing their evening songs could be heard. The sniper closed his eyes and began to plan this next hit. His target was under surveillance in a clinic now. Therefore, he had to figure out a moment, when he was in the garden, perhaps… or in a part of the house, which he could reach from the outside without interference. There were always such possibilities!

He had to be careful, nonetheless, because the FBI was still on his tracks, no doubt. They might catch him this time; agent Seeley Booth was a blood hound. _So that's destiny, _Jacob thought, and suddenly he had to smile, because 'Destiny' at least for him, had beautiful long legs, dark eyes and a defiant look. His mind stayed with the daughter of his late comrade for quite a while. He hoped, she would manage to build a new life – just as Paula had done. _And you always said it was due to me. It wasn't. You were strong enough… up to the day when Booth told you that damned lie!_

He had opened his wallet and stared at Paula's photo.

…

Destiny Bennett hadn't left town. Or better, she had, and had returned. She didn't want to poke around the reason why; she just didn't know where to go. Her father was dead, her sister on Honeymoon in Europe, her comrades dead or still in the line of duty in Afghanistan. Her good friend Dexter was dead. So many people she had any kind of relationship with, were dead already! Destiny felt like an old woman.

It was clear in her mind, that she should find herself a job and a place to live. But what kind of job? The police wouldn't take her, after the breakdown and emotional instability she had shown back in Afghanistan. A private security service? It wasn't much she could do, the young woman realized. She had enlisted when she had been 18. Now, at the age of 29, her army career was over and she had completely lost her reason of existence.

This afternoon, she decided to pay an old buddy a visit. Grashopper-Pete, as he was called (Destiny didn't know why) was half Native American, tall, bulky, tattooed and knew everything she could imagine about customized weaponry. He was the kind of person hushing people to the other side of the street with his appearance alone. No one would have imagined that Pete was Vegetarian and lived with his three cats!

Maybe, Destiny thought, a little chat with him gave her some new ideas about her future! However, when she entered Pete's firearm's shop, he was not there. A young guy with shaved head leaned behind the counter. And in front of it stood a man in an impeccably dark suit, spreading the scent of police a mile wide. Yes, exactly, now he flipped his wallet with the FBI-badge open!

Destiny was about to leave quietly again, when she heard the FBI-pogo say "Did you see this man during the last two weeks?" A photo in a sheet protector was shoved over the counter and produced a short scratching sound. "His name is Jacob Broadsky. He is wanted for multiple murder."

The young woman held her breath while she pretended to browse through a magazine on display. Pete's business partner declared not to have seen anyone, of course. Even if he had, it was always safer that way! Nonetheless, the details the FBI guy told made it clear enough that the police had found at least a little trace in the construction area. Destiny cursed silently and sneaked out after all. There was no question for her anymore what she should do: she had to find Jacob and warn him. Before the FBI did!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Destiny had pondered about how to find and warn Jacob for the past night and half of the day, without getting any closer to a solution of the problem. He was hiding, and she had no phone number to call. She was not even sure if he was still in Washington. She strongly hoped he would've left the city by now – however for some reason she was sure he hadn't.

The headache throbbed stronger behind her temples, while she shuffled along the wet street. _Maybe I should get some Aspirin, _the young woman thought, discovering the bright green cross at a building. When she entered the pharmacy, Destiny regretted her decision on the spot. An elderly man leaned against the counter, ranting and arguing about an obviously not correct prescription.

"What shall I do now?" The gramps yelled with squeaky voice. "What? …. I don't understand! Why is this not valuable?"

The pharmacist rolled his eyes. Obviously he had already explained everything twice.

"What? … I can't go back to the doctor now! I need those injections!" The old man muttered something not understandable and certainly not very friendly, before he started again: "Shall I die because you don't wanna give me my medication? That's our democratic government, fine!"

Destiny sighed, ready to leave before her own head exploded. That moment, a very particular memory hit her with lightning's force. _Injections!_

She saw herself twelve years ago, coming home late at night – or better early in the morning – and finding the family's friend Jacob Broadsky in the kitchen, giving himself a shot. First she had thought he would be on drugs, of course, and had been shocked to see her adored hero 'fallen'. Until he had explained it was a medicine.

_A medicine he would still need today… _

Destiny ran out of the pharmacy.

Hadn't Jacob told her he had been forced to leave the army? So maybe this was the cause – someone there had finally figured out about his illness and judged him not fit for duty anymore… _I know a whole bunch of people, high ranking among them who are in no way fit for duty! Including me… _A sad smile flitted over her face. _And they had to kick Jacob out because of their bureaucracy, yeah!_

It started to rain again. People hurried to find cover or opened quickly their umbrellas. Destiny squeezed herself under an awning. Nonetheless, the water already dripped from her hair over her face.

"_I need my injections."_

However, Jacob couldn't go to a doc or a pharmacy to get them! If he had been dismissed from service because of his medical condition, the FBI knew about this thing, too. And they would wait until he showed up there and then snap him! So what could he do? What would he possibly do? The drug scene… The black market for medications…?

Destiny wiped over her face. She froze. Washington was big, and the spots for illegal dealers were countless. Of course, not everyone dealt in high-priced medication. Finding the right people and moreover in the shortest time possible would be tricky to say the least! She couldn't draw too much attention or she would lead the police exactly the way she did not want!

Her headache completely forgotten, Destiny decided to fetch something to eat, dry cloths, and then probe the terrain around certain promising locations. And of course she needed to remember the name of this medicine… or at least what this disease was called. Well, that she could do in an internet café. Meant killing three birds with one stone: eating, getting coffee and doing research. She smiled grimly.

…

Near the psychiatric clinic, Jacob Broadsky was on the scout for his next target. He had taken place in one of the huge park trees surrounding the clinic complex, observed everything with a binocular and then noted the details in a book. It was of utmost importance to know his prey as well as its 'natural habitat'. There were still 3 weeks left until the scheduled court trial – enough for studying and practicing! Only when the patients had been brought to their rooms for the night and the lights went out, Jacob left his post.

…

Destiny was under way in downtown. Some coffee and a heightened level of Adrenalin kept her awake. She could simply not afford to rest! Especially not, after she had heard the FBI had put a search warrant out. A quick check out of the construction site where she had landed her hit had shown Destiny the police was still busy with investigations. Obviously, they had found something pointing at Jacob and not her. So it was even more her obligation to warn him!

She sneaked around a Wal-Mart and waited. Some drunkards veged out here, and a youngster stole a bicycle. Being an ex-Marine, Destiny was not afraid someone could harm her. She excelled in hand to hand combat, and had a switch blade in her pocket, in case it got nasty. Until now at least, nothing at all happened!

_Seems I can wait here forever, _she mused and suppressed another yawn. _Should try it in the subway before __–__ hey, what was that? _

She had discovered a man standing half hidden behind a garbage container and trading a little package for money a woman gave him. However, before Destiny could make a decision, a shadow fell on her, followed the next second by its bulky owner.

She looked into the face of a Hispanic with neatly trimmed beard and golden necklace. The same second all her senses were alert.

"Ey, saw ya hangin' around the whole fuckin' evening! What's ya business?"

"I'm looking for someone," Destiny replied, throwing a furtive glace around to see if the guy was alone. Her right hand moved slightly into the direction of her knife.

"Lookin' for someone, too," he grinned and stretched the hand after her.

"Someone who could help me to get this." Destiny held a paper with the exact indication of the medicine in the man's direction.

He shrugged. "Ask Krazinski, Hennington Ave, Lighthouse Bar." He made a quick movement, trying to catch her arm, but she had ducked down hastily and now was already running. The Hispanic roared some curses after her.

The Lighthouse was a shabby stinky place, already filled up with drunkards in various states of intoxication. Destiny was told to wait. While she nervously smoked her last cigarette, she was harassed twice. Finally, a worn out looking guy showed up and gestured her to follow him.

Some crumbled steps and over-stuffed garbage cans later, the young woman stood in a small room full of various cardboard boxes. In their midst, like a spider in her net, sat a middle aged man with thinning hair and glasses. A half eaten Hamburger next to him, and a bottle of some liquor in his hand. Her skinny companion exchanged some whispered words with him, and a short laugh not sounding very reassuring. Then he slipped out of the place again.

"What the fuck do you want?" Krazinski blurted unfriendly.

"I search for someone who deals with this…"

Krazinski burped and shot a glance at the note. "I only deal with legal stuff. Surplus stuff, you know."

"I need this. I really need this."

The man took another sip from his bottle.

His look made her feel chilly. This was not going well, shit! "Please." Destiny's whole being revolted at the thought to beg this cum, but at the moment it was the best she could do.

Krazinski leaned back and enjoyed his supposed superiority. "Can't help you."

"It's for a friend. I mean, I want to know who could sell him the stuff." Lying was not her thing. She had always preferred to shout the truth into peoples' faces and let them cope with it.

Now Krazinski stared at her and she knew he didn't believe one word. "Can't help you." he said again.

Maybe he thought she was from the police, holy crap!

"Please," she started anew. "My friend is in very big trouble and I don't know where to find him!"

"So it seems to me he isn't such a good friend, eh? – You should stop wasting my time!"

Before she could think about any other possibilities, Destiny found herself thrown out. Some bad tempered looking guy blocked her way back. Shoving a few annoying guests of the bar aside, she made herself way. Maybe it would've been a better idea to wag with some money! However, she hadn't that much to spare, still without any job!

…

Only some minutes later, another door in the back room of the Lighthouse opened, and Jacob Broadsky entered. Like the two times before, he handed Krazinski 5000 bucks and got a small box in exchange.

"There was a girl here asking stupid questions. I guess she was after you." Krazinski told, counting the money. "Thought you should know."

"A girl?" Jacob looked up from his just closed suitcase, a specific foreboding forming in his mind. "How did she look like?" he asked.

"Short black hair, green eyes, a bit too skinny for my taste." The drug dealer chuckled. "Ah yeah… and she was wearing a dog tag."

_Oh no! What the hell is she still doing here? _"When did she leave?"

"Some minutes ago, 10 at most."

_Crap! Means she can be just about anywhere by now! _

Jacob took his bag and left the place in a hurry. He had his bike parked out there in the block's backyard. It was a second hand buy, unobtrusive looking. He fastened the helmet and started the engine. If he was lucky - very, very lucky - Destiny was still around in the area. He had to find her! He had to take care of her! Better than he had done for Paula…

With this in mind, Broadsky rode down the street in the northern direction.

The weather was bad, so there were only a few people outside. Nonetheless, it was dark and of course he couldn't discern anyone looking like Destiny! _I waste precious time, _he thought, turning his bike for another round southwards, nevertheless. Stopping at a red traffic light, he heard an annoyed male voice sounding from the entrance of the nearby Kentucky Fried Chicken. A not less angry female answered: "Take your fingers off me, I said!"

_Destiny!_

Jacob veered out of the traffic and rode the curb stone up, stopping only right in front of the fast food restaurant and Destiny.

"What are you doing, moron?" yelled her unwanted companion, waving a beer can in Jacob's direction. "Wanna kill someone?"

The young woman had flinched back when the motorcycle crossed the walkway. Now she recognized the driver, even though barely more than his eyes were visible because of the helmet. A short grin flickered over her face, when she pushed the intrusive guy next to her back and mounted behind Jacob. "No offense, but I have better offers for the night, pal!"

While they rode off, the angry would-be-lover flung his half empty beer can after them. It collided with a lantern and finally landed clanking on the pavement.

Nearly one hour later, Jacob and Destiny arrived in the quiet suburb of Springfield, in one of the cheap, faceless motel rooms. He closed the door and grabbed her before she could make one step further.

"What the hell was your plan in tracking me?" he hissed barely audible but nonetheless sounding very threatening.

Destiny freed herself. "I wanted to warn you! The FBI is on your heels!"

"That I know!"

"Close on your heels, I mean!" she added, getting a bit on the edge. "They investigate the construction site and they-"

"Keep quiet! These walls are as thin as paper!"

"… they found traces pointing at you, Jacob! I overheard a FBI guy asking questions in an arms dealer shop! I did this, dammit! And I don't want it pinned on you! Do you get this?"

"You have to stop worrying about me, Destiny." He had bowed down to her and closed his hands around her arms. "You have to leave this town, this country!"

"It is YOU who should leave! You'll HANG if they get you!"

"When my time comes, it comes. Until then, I have a job to do."

She didn't know if she should shout, cry or hit him at least. Her mind was just one big chaos. She was exhausted and hungry and freezing and – she did the hell not know what she was doing here! Crying and cursing seemed to be the best idea, after all! Or, the easiest solution! "What do you think? You are some sort of holy warrior and God himself comes rescuing you from the FBI? What a SHIT! You're a murderer and you will be charged with murder when they get you! They don't the fuck care if you've only shot the bad guys!"

…

_I'm sure it was not Broadsky, dammit! _FBI agent Booth repeated his conviction in his mind while he sat in his apartment and stared at the crime scene photo in his hand. It showed the remnants of a muddy finger print on a wall - found in the parking deck near the construction site. It was Broadsky's for sure. So he was there. But he had not committedthis murder. So, who else was the hitman? So far the FBI and the police had not found any other clues - no wonder after the rain of the past days!

Seeley Booth sighed and went into the kitchen to fetch a glass of milk. What was going on here? He sincerely hoped his colleagues from the Jeffersonian would find anything helpful within the next hours.


	5. Chapter 5

They looked into each other's eyes with determination. Suddenly, Destiny understood exactly why she wanted Jacob to stop his business, to be away and safe. He was the last link to her intact past with all its bright hopes for the future. With all its dreams. The last calm place amidst the thunderstorm. She wanted to hold onto it. And he was still the hero she adored, the beacon she wanted to follow.

She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him without any further thought. Feeling him respond, she held him tighter. She was anxious of being banished from paradise once and forever.

Jacob's hand moved through her hair and sank further down to open her jacket. His mind cried only one word: _Paula._ The next moment, his fingers touched her dog tag. The illusion burst into dust.

"No," he whispered, shoving Destiny back gently. "Stop."

She looked up to him with a devastated expression.

"It wouldn't be fair," he continued, however still not able to stop caressing her face. "You deserve much better than just being a…" Jacob swallowed the word 'replacement', breathed deeply and finally turned away. "It does not mean you're not a pretty girl. … It's just… I'm not ready yet."

Destiny felt awful. She could not remember having ever felt that exposed and stupid and lost. Everything on top of her exhaustion created a storm that simply broke her last barriers. She let herself fall on the bed and cried. After a moment, Jacob put the blanket around her. Before she could spend more miserable thoughts on the situation, her body claimed its rights and she was asleep.

When she woke up again, it started to get day already. Jacob sat on his bed.

"I'm sorry," Destiny began. "Because of yesterday. Guess I made a big fool out of me. … What a shit!" She scratched through her short hair both handed. "I always tried to be tough, and now –"

"It's not your fault." Jacob turned towards her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Life was just a bit rough on you lately."

Her glance fell on the photograph he still held in his other hand. "Why didn't you tell me you already had someone … preparing your breakfast?" She tried to laugh but did not succeed.

"Paula is dead."

At this moment, Destiny would have given a lot if there had been any possibility to make her words unsaid. _Obviously, I step on one landmine after another!_

"And she died, because … of me. I put her in danger. I wasn't careful enough. I…" His voice trailed off while he stared again at the photo. Then he stood up.

"That's the reason why I want you out of the danger zone, Destiny! Don't you understand?"

"We can be BOTH out of the danger zone!" She jumped up, her fighting spirit returning. Maybe the doctors had been right; she was beginning to develop a 'Bipolar-Disorder'. For now at least, it didn't matter to her, as long as she could hold Jacob back somehow.

"The profession is all I have left!" He did not shout, however his voice was very crispy. "My reason to live, to EXIST any longer!"

Destiny did not answer. The words had opened own wounds. What were her reasons to live? Now, that her army career was over, that her father was dead, that her friend Dexter was dead AND she had killed his murderer? She felt useless.

"Let me come with you!" She suggested, a plea making Jacob turn around and stare at her.

Then she got a plain and simple "No."

"Why not? I have nothing left, too! What am I supposed to do now? Waiting for the welfare check, booze, hanging around with some low-life chap for the rest of my life? I want to do something useful, meaningful again! I'm a good sniper, I'm a good shooter! I can provide you cover during your work!"

"I don't want to be responsible for another innocent woman's death!"

"I'm not innocent anymore! I iced that motherfucker at the construction site!"

Silence. Jacob started to pack his stuff. Destiny felt burned out.

Eventually, he spoke again: "Where do you have your weapons?" _Having her close might be the only way to prevent her from walking in deeper crap…_

…

Seeley Booth had spent a nightmare –crowded sleep, and thus felt not very relaxed, when he stood up this morning. Still sleepy, he shuffled into the bathroom. He had barely turned on the shower, when the phone rang.

_Perfect timing, as usual! _He thought grumpy and hurried to take the call. It was the Jeffersonian. Tempe, to be more exact, and he felt slightly better hearing her voice. And the news – weren't they what he had hoped for, too?

"We have found something more at the crime scene," Tempe Brennan reported. "As you always say, triple checking is always a good thing!"

_Yep,_ Booth thought. _Sometimes even quintuple. _"So what did you dig out?"

"It was dug out, indeed. The rain had it washed under one of the fences. It is a button, and after all we know already, it comes from a Gore Tex women's jacket, Size M. Because we can exclude it belongs to any of the construction site working teams, we can only assume it belongs to our mysterious second suspect."

_A woman? _This was certainly not what the FBI agent had expected to hear! But his tiredness was gone! Finally a new lead in this case! "I'll call my team," he promised, searching for a towel and realizing that the weather in Washington was of a kind requiring a better heating of his apartment.

"I'll have checked the victim's primary connections!"

…

Later the same day, Jacob and Destiny rode out into the country side through heavy autumn rain. Their destination was a lonely spot in the hills, an old long abandoned log cabin, once home of a Hippie. "Time for a little target practicing", Jacob had decided. So they were as far away from Washington as possible and could focus on necessary training.

"Man, what a place!" Destiny stated while wading through the muddy ground towards the half crumbled porch. A ragged wind catcher hung there, beaten mercilessly by the storm. "That's one of the spookiest and most desolate spots I've ever been in! How did you find it?"

"During one of my hikes. Lonely training places are somewhat scarce in this area", Jacob replied and wheeled the motorcycle under the protruding roof. Then he took the bags with their weaponry and kicked the door open. „Come in! It does look better inside, I promise."

_A little at least, _he corrected himself a moment later, standing in the dusty main room with its never cleaned windows and the worn out furniture. The colorless rug on the floor displayed some holes, too, which reminded him of installing a mouse trap. However, he had left this cabin the way it was exactly to lead unwelcome visitors astray.

Paula would not have liked it, he mused. No, certainly not. He had had his vacation spots with her - close to nature, but always clean and in order. He had wanted her to have these simple, beautiful relaxing places, while he was out for the training. _A lie, _Jacob thought now. _Just as I lied to her about me. …My life was a complete lie…_

Destiny entered the same. „Well, it's dry at least." She put her bag on the floor and shook her arms. Water drops flew in every direction as if she had been a wet dog. „I'm completely soaked. What a crappy weather!"

„I like it for now. It washes away our traces on the road. Nonetheless, for training we don't need such a downpour. - I'm going to make a fire, before we get a nasty cold both of us."

…

His growling stomach reminded agent Booth he had skipped dinner. However, he couldn't bring himself to part from his computer and the ongoing search. Now that he felt close to cut the maze and grab the truth!

The corrupt cop who had been on Broadsky's target list and then obviously on the one of the mysterious 'killer lady', had his fingers in many dirty pies. One of his last victims had been a man named Dexter, a physician working at a military rehab center. Dexter should appear as witness in a men-smugglers-trial, but had been eliminated right before the scheduled day.

_Working in a military rehab facility…_ Booth repeated in his thoughts. Military was already very close to the little card in his mind titled _Jacob R. Broadsky. _The agent needed some more information about Dexter's patients. He had filed the usual request, but of course this would take its time. Medical personal data were under special protection, even for the FBI!

He shot a glance at the office's watch. Almost 4 pm! Finally time to get something to eat! With a sigh, Seeley Booth stood up, secured his computer and grabbed his jacket.

…

Meanwhile, Jacob and Destiny sat in front of the fireplace and talked about their weaponry.

"Wow, that's an _Elite Tactical_, right?" Destiny watched Jacob's equipment with awe.

"Simply the best when it comes to handling, " he replied. "I could have customized it just the way I wanted it. And now…" He lifted the rifle from its protective casing, "…it literally merges with me."

"This would've been high above my financial possibilities, you know! … And an _Apex _scope… My trainer said these are absolutely the best on the market."

"Who trained you?

"Ed O'Hara."

"I remember him! Good soldier… and good comrade."

Destiny sighed. The almost relaxed atmosphere of their chat was gone. "He got killed in an ambush, alongside with 10 other men. That's why our task force had been sent out, to look for the attackers."

Jacob put the rifle on his knees and stared into the flames. _So many good men and women are dead! And how much scum is living happily? Sneaking out of the justice's range!_

…

The sun was setting and the FBI team still buried in work. Booth's screen showed finally a list of Dr. Dexter's patients. For sure, the chief had moved heaven and earth to accelerate the bureaucracy!

Names and personal histories, some of them sad and depressing. Seeley remembered his own military service. He had been lucky to be alive. And not only alive, but without – or nearly without – the traumas of some of his comrades.

His eyes caught a last name. _Bennett. _Like _Robert Bennett, _member of their old sniper team? No, the entry stated _Bennett, D. M._. He displayed the record. _Destiny Margaret Bennett, born 2__nd__ of April 1982. _Hawkeye Bennett's daughter! The agent was hooked immediately. Bennett had not only been HIS comrade, but Broadsky's as well. And his daughter… When he read further, he sensed the Adrenalin tickle in his stomach. She had been a sniper in Afghanistan!

(well, I have a little video up on this site starting with 'y', you know. If you search for 'sniper+Arnold Vosloo' you should be able to find it. Please take a look!)


	6. Chapter 6

Seeley Booth sat on his couch and zapped through the late night TV program because he could find no rest. He was ordered to show a low profile because of the press – but his suspension was off the cards – so he had been notified. _'Because it is word against word'_, his chief had told him, _'And what is the word of a convicted criminal against the one of an outstanding FBI agent? Relax. They have no proof whatsoever. I told them we had everything under control in every second of this game, and there was absolutely no danger for anyone, except for the police.'_

'_That's a lie,'_ Booth had answered.

'_Yes,' _the chief had answered with a plain smirk, _'but who knows? We have to ensure law and order, my friend. If we would work by the book every minute, the criminals would laugh their ass out!'_

_Well, I know… _Seeley thought again and switched the TV off, annoyed with himself and the whole world. For weeks he had been grumpy because of the threatening suspension. Now it was over, and he was even more bad-tempered. Whichever way he might look at it, he knew this suspension was deserved! Tempe and his colleagues and friends could say as often as they wanted _'You did the right thing, you are on the good side'._ The problem was he did not believe it! Or, at least, he believed it on the surface. However, not deep inside. There, the unwelcome thought rumbled and disturbed.

That night, he was not out to re-establish law and order. He had been set to kill Broadsky. It was as simple as it was! Not for revenge, though. That Seeley Booth was sure. But the truth was far more unpleasant. He wanted to finish the other man, because he was afraid. Not of Broadsky, but of himself, of his own mind and its weakness and darkness. This sounded somewhat like in the good old Starwars movies, the FBI agent thought with a wry grin. But there was no better description.

In order to guide his ponderings at least in another direction, he snapped the report about Destiny Bennett again. Who was this woman? Broadsky's partner in crime, tool or … lover? And most of all: where the hell where the both of them?

…

It still rained, and it was cold, when Jacob woke up in the middle of the night. He estimated the temperature had been dropped about 10 degrees compared to last day. He and Destiny lay wrapped in their blankets as close as possible to the fireplace with its last smoldering wood.

If it didn't stop raining very soon, they couldn't set up the training area tomorrow, and even less practice. Jacob sighed and leaned back again. Without knowing why, his memory wandered to the day he met Paula for the first time, back in Afghanistan.

_FLASHBACK_

… _Lt. Jacob Broadsky was on patrol in the barren rocky landscape for two hours now. It was early morning, but the just risen sun did neither provide warmth nor a veil of beauty for this God-forsaken place. He had heard there were some beautiful places further in the South, a well known Mosque for instance. And he had heard that there were huge orange plantations years ago. Now all he and his comrades had contact with was sand, stones and – bombs. Or, additionally, some hostile snipers!__ They could hide everywhere, and in fact they did, and made life for him and his comrades a living hell._

_Jacob was very cautious and a highly skilled hunter. This had saved his ass __sometimes already. Many of his comrades had not been so lucky. The little bomb squad, for instance, who simply vanished on its mission yesterday._

_Ironically, Jacob thought, because they had been out to help the locals and make the fields ready for seeding again. War always hit the ones who were innocent, or let's say, had a good agenda. On both sides! The evil guys were ruthless enough to get their asses into safety by all means!_

_He stopped and crouched down behind a rock, having heard something in the distance. Like a barked order... There it was again! This time, it sounded rather English. However, the wind was very unfavorable to carry the sounds. He took his binocular and checked the area. _

_Yes! Next to another rock formation, was a small camp. Well… camp was too much… Jacob counted two Jeeps and some Taliban standing around. What did they do there? He adjusted the binocular. The enemy was definitely guarding something… Someone! Several people were huddled together on the ground in between the Jeeps and the standing men._

_A moment later he discerned who they were: US soldiers. And highly probably the ones from the missing bomb squad! Crap! _

_Jacob had to think fast, very fast. __The protocol demanded that he notified his superiors and a rescue operation was set in motion. However, this would take far too long! Even if it looked as if the enemy would stay at this location for a while, this meant nothing. They could jump in their cars and vanish with the hostages within the next minutes! And the bargaining could go on for months, if any would happen at all. The Taliban could just kill the hostages as an example. Or they could kill half of them and mutilate the others. Especially after the unfortunate death of this native family during an attack two days ago._

_Broadsky __decided to assail the task on his own. With fast moves, he brought his rifle in position and peered through the scope. Too far away. Even for him! He had to get a little bit closer! Determined, Jacob hurried forward through the gravely ground. Shortly after, he dove into cover behind another rock and tested again. This time, it was better. He could identify five hostile fighters, and 10 to 12 US soldiers, some of them injured, as it seemed. The small number of Taliban said him, that reinforcements were probably under way or already very close. That was, what they were waiting for! Transportation for the hostages and more men! He cursed, keeping cold blood, though. Any commotion would've jeopardized the mission._

_Jacob took aim with utmost precision and fired. One down! Before the enemy grasped, what happened, the next slumped to the ground. Then the easy part was over! The Taliban took cover behind their vehicles or grabbed one of the hostages as shield, while shooting in Jacob's direction. They could not reach him with their weapons, this was not the problem. Nonetheless, he couldn't land a clear shot at them, too. _

_So he waited. It was a Poker game. The reinforcements could arrive any time, and then it was over. On the other hand, the fighters could lose their patience and get out of cover again. This was something he had learned in the past years of military service. Only a few people were patient. Really patient, especially in combat situations. Normally, they all craved for decisive actions._

_He counted the seconds. They became a minute and a half. Shit. _

'_Move your asses away from the fucking cars!' … Another minute. There! One of the distant silhouettes crept out of cover. It was the last movement he did. Jacob hit his head. Three down, two to go. Another Taliban was overwhelmed by a quick attack of one of the hostages. The last one… Shit! The enemy still held one of the hostages in front of his chest and retreated to the Jeep._

_Jacob pressed his teeth together. The omnipresent desert sand crunched. __ He stared through the scope as if he could reach his target by sight alone. The head of the man – the head of the hostage – the gun in the man's hand – the head of the hostage. It was a matter of centimeters and seconds!_

_Now his target turned slightly. However, in the wrong direction. 'God help me!, Jacob thought. His finger hovered over the trigger, while he adjusted the rifle with the other hand. Now!_

_The window had been very narrow! Nonetheless, the Taliban collapsed. The sniper exhaled a sigh of relief. A moment later, he was running down through the rocks towards his rescued comrades. _

_The freed hostages had taken their enemies' weapons and secured their precarious position in the valley, before they could even understand what Broadsky was__ yelling. When he arrived out of breath, they ware almost ready, only surprised to find one man instead of the supposed rescue commando._

_O__ne of the wounded, a woman, still lay on the ground and another soldier next to her. "She's too severely injured! We need a helicopter!" The soldier looked still like a teenager._

"_If __ we wait for a chopper, you're all going to die, man!" replied Jacob and bowed down to the woman. The injuries were nasty, no doubt. Her rank signs were barely noticeable under dirt and blood. He lifted her head slightly. "Corporal, do you hear me?"_

_A weak nod._

"_What's your name?"_

"_Ashwaldt… Paula…"_

"_Listen, Paula! You have to hold on! Will you do that?"_

_Here eyes opened, full of pain. 'The most beautiful eyes I've ever seen', flashed through his mind. "You won't die, Paula! You are strong. You will hold on!" Jacob's voice was like an incantation. "Understood?"_

_Another nod. Jacob gave the young soldier a sign to help and they heaved her carefully in one of the Jeeps. As long as she possibly could, her eyes were fixed on him._

…

_H__ours later, the rescued soldiers were in medical and psychological care. Jacob Broadsky sat in front of his barrack, drinking a beer and watching the sunset, when he noticed his comrade stepping over. Seeley Booth had been on a mission along the road further South, and obviously, he had just returned. His face was smeared with dirt and sweat and he looked very tired._

"_Hey, Jacob! Is it true what I heard? You __attacked on your own?"_

"_Yes." He was not the kind of person to prance with stories about own bravery. That was the reason he sat here alone and not in the mess hall with the others. Should they invent some stuff! He did not need this!_

_Booth fell next to him on the container. "You are crazy! Why didn't you wait for reinforcements?"_

"_If I had done so, these 12 soldiers would very likely be dead or dragged away in some Taliban hole."_

_Booth shook his head. "I know that probably all the others celebrate you as a hero, but… this was just fucking stupid and crazy, Jacob!__ We are soldiers; we are in a command structure! We can't go and attack like we want!"_

"_So our comrades can be glad it was ME who discovered them and not you." Jacob was tired and a bit on the edge. He did not want to fight with his friend – it just happened._

"_You say I'm an idiot and a coward, because I believe in the imperative of orders? This is not the Wild West! We are no… no…" Seeley's words ended in a frustrated huff._

_Jacob glanced in his eyes. "No outlaws, you wanted to say? Or what?"_

"_You miss my point! What I wanted to say is, a soldier has his orders and the command __structure for a reason!"_

"_A soldier is a human being, and first of all, he has his brain and his conscience!"_

_Before they had realized it, the two comrades were in the middle of a dissent._

"_Conscience is nothing you can hold on to! It's subjective, personal! Orders give you the line to follow, the safe frame!"_

"_Is that so?"_

"_Yes!"_

_Jacob stood up. "For me, conscience is a higher ground than orders and command structure on paper! It's with my conscience I have to stand before God one day. – Have a good night! I have to get up very early tomorrow." With that, he disappeared in the barrack._

…_FLASHBACK END_

Somewhat after 8, it finally stopped raining. Jacob and Destiny ate a small breakfast, and then were underway to set up the training ground. As far as he had scouted his terrain at the clinic already, he either had to hit the target in the garden, or in his room, respectively. The last option was the better one, considered the target had only a small perimeter to move and was alone. The downside was the shooting angle. There was only one building higher than the clinic's wall in useful range, and even then some trees had to be taken into account. And the higher he took position, the closer to the window the target had to be! Sadly, he couldn't use some of these hand made programmable bullets! The artist, who had produced them, was in FBI's custody since the last hit.

Jacob and Destiny worked hard for the next hours, barely speaking a word. On the one hand, because arranging wood logs, earth and stones to a useful structure for training was very exhausting. On the other hand, they had both different reasons: Jacob pondered about how to get Destiny out of the picture fast and permanently enough, so she got out of the police's reach. And the young woman thought no less hard, how to convince Jacob to stop and get away before it was too late the same.

It was not only her teenage dream she wanted stubbornly to hold, Destiny noticed while ramming some branches into the muddy ground and secretly watching her companion. She felt still attracted to him, just as years ago. And more… It was about him. She wanted him to be happy, too. Jacob had always been the serene type, unlike her father. Nonetheless, he had this short smile, what brightened her teenage days. She wanted to see it again…

Jacob's words pulled Destiny out of her musings: "This looks well enough! Good work!" He wiped his hands on his jeans and walked over to her. "I think we've earned a little snack by now."

They sat on a boulder and unpacked the food and drink they had brought along. "Where is the real target," she asked after the first bites. "And who is he… or she?"

"I'll tell you when it is time."

"You don't trust me! You think I'm going to sell you out to the cops?"

"If I thought that…" Jacob stopped, feeling very cold inside, while probing deeper. No. He did not think that! He smiled and rubbed her back. "I want you to focus on the training at the moment, not already pondering about the end game! It would only distract you from the task. Give you too much worry."

For some time, they sat in silence. The birds sang in the trees and it was almost a picnic feeling, what settled in. Destiny closed her eyes and pretended it was exactly that. When the sun eventually peered through the carpet of clouds, she held her face up in the warmth. Could not life be so much more than hunting and killing bad guys? But what could it be, then?


	7. Chapter 7

It was late afternoon and the lighting thus corresponded with the one Jacob Broadsky assumed for his duty in the clinic. The practicing area was set up to his satisfaction. So he decided to do some test shots. He searched a tree in the needed distance and climbed up. Focusing at the right angle towards his training target, Jacob didn't notice the weakened state of one of the branches he leaned on. When it gave the first squeak, he tried to shift his weight, secure his rifle.

But it was too late. The branch cracked and he fell.

"Crap!" Jacob heaved himself in a sitting position. His back hurt, and he had some bruises on his arm, where he had scratched the bark. Nothing serious, though.

"Are you okay?" Destiny's voice sounded anxious. He sensed her arms supporting him. She wiped hastily over her eyes. Tears? Anyway, she did not want him to see it!

_She really cares about me…_ he thought and felt a bit awkward, knowing he could not return the feelings she obviously had for him. Not… yet, at least…. Jacob managed a reassuring smile. "I'm –"

The word 'fine' didn't leave his mouth, though. His eyes caught his rifle, or more, what was left of it! Unfortunately, it had hit a sharp rock on the ground. The scope was shattered into pieces and the barrel was damaged as well. His fingers stroke over the pitiable remains.

"You can buy a new one," Destiny said. "The most important thing is that you aren't seriously hurt!"

"I can't buy a new one," Jacob replied without looking up. At the moment, he felt really very weak. "I bet the FBI has all available sources already under surveillance. And even if not… I have simply not enough money anymore. Half of my latest advance payment went off for my medicine." He sighed.

An idea took shape in Destiny's mind. "Maybe…," she started, kneeling down again next to him, "… it's a sign of… God for you. A sign to stop."

A moment went by in silence. It started to rain again in large, soft drops.

"No," Jacob finally said. "I can't quit. I have work to do." With some effort, he got to his feet again and took the broken weapon.

"Perhaps you can use my rifle?"

"Maybe." He walked off without turning again. So he didn't see the desperation settling in her features at this response.

…

Taking Destiny's rifle had been an idea, but after having inspected the weapon, Jacob knew he couldn't use it. Even if he would acquire a scope with the needed capacity. Destiny's rifle was a standard one, very good for standard sniper jobs. Not for the one awaiting him!

Lying awake at night, he scouted the various options still within reach. There was one person who could be in possession of a weapon like the one he needed. At least the man had been when he last met him a couple of months ago! Jacob Broadsky decided to refresh the contact to his ex comrade Mark Leishinger…

As cautious as Jacob could be considered the pressing time, he checked for Leishinger's whereabouts. Doing this, he figured out, that the final court sitting of his target had been rescheduled: pushed up one week! Time was running out!

**One week later…**

While Jacob was gone to meet his old comrade, Destiny walked nervously on and off in the cabin. What if this so-called old buddy had made a deal with the FBI and Jacob got caught? It wouldn't take the cops long then to show up here and arrest her as well. The young woman was afraid of this prospective. However, even more she was worried about the man who had left the cabin this morning that full of confidence!

She leaned against the dirty window and tried to discern anything outside. _I could have accompanied him! I could've provided cover! I should've done it, shit! _Her hand moved absently over her own weapon, fumbling for the familiar shape and recreating it in her mind, while she was still scowling outside.

_When they catch you someday, I won__'t let them drag you through court rooms and prisons! I won't let them kill you on the death chair! _Destiny was resolved this very moment. _You're going to die like a soldier…_ She realized her right hand cramped around her rifle and the left one in the fabric of Jacobs second jacket. She drew a deep breath and added solemnly and aloud: "I swear. The hell I swear!"

…

Meanwhile, Jacob talked with Leishinger and tested the man's brought along rifle. It was a marvelous weapon, in best shape – it was what he needed. Just within reach. God had provided for him; and any obstacles had to be eliminated, if they arose. And it looked as if Mark would become that kind of obstacle…

"Can I borrow your rifle and access card for the harbor or not?" Jacob asked again.

Mark Leishinger blew little smoke rings with his cigarette and hesitated. "Jake, you know, man…"

"It's for a good cause. I told you. Don't you trust me?"

"It has nothing to do with trust." The other sniper jumped to his feet and walked some paces. "Look! Since I left the army, I've seen a lot of shit! I've done a lot of shit! I've even spent some weeks in jail because of it! I don't want to be there again! I have a girl; we want to marry!"

_I had a girl, too… _Jacob stared on the ground, at the coveted rifle.

"…Don't you understand, Jake? It has nothing to do with you! I just don't want any trouble! Especially not with the FBI!"

_But you want monsters that raped and killed little girls walking away. You want to close your eyes and live happily ever after._

"Jake?" Mark stopped next to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "You don't take this personal, do you?"

He stood up the same and smiled. "No."

The next second, he attacked him. Two precise hits and Leishinger was down in the vulnerable position making it the matter of a moment to kill him with a sharp blade.

For the blink of an eye, the world froze, when Jacob stared at the lifeless body to his feet. There seemed to be pain in his mind, in every part of his body – before it concentrated in his right hand. A pulsing, nagging, very real pain. The attempt to spread his fingers ended in a suppressed moan. _Shit! _Nonetheless, there was no time to bother with the injury now. He had to take what he came for and leave fast!

…

Outside the cabin, the last purple sun glow gave way to the blue velvet shades of the beginning night. Inside, Destiny tried under the light of their two flashlights to adjust and bandage Jacob's broken hand.

"This is crazy! You should have a doc taking care of that!"

"You do just fine," he said through gritted teeth.

"You may never be able to move it properly again!" She pressed a metal bracket she had found in a drawer against his palm and applied another layer of duct tape around the hand.

"If I show up in a clinic, I will not be able to move properly anymore, too, because I get handcuffed."

Destiny looked at him with an incredulous half smile and shook her head. "You know this sounded almost like a joke." However, it was far too much reality to allow even a little laugh to break through.

Jacob watched her in silence finishing her work. Then he rose and marched through the tiny dusty room in order to avert the focus of his body from the pain. – And his mind from another troubling issue.

"Destiny, you have to leave! I'll give you the money I can still spare and you'll leave this country!"

"We are in this together!" she replied. "I won't go! You need some help, if only in watching your back! Or… applying a bandage."

He walked past her with a suppressed sigh. The problem was she was right. Of course he could do his job and shoot – as long as the rifle was properly fixed and adjusted, what normally was the case. But in any hand-to-hand combat or on the run he was severely restrained with only one hand. Someone watching his back and giving cover would be just perfect. However… however not Destiny!

"I have only one access card for the harbor. I can't take you with me and we can't stay here for much longer."

"You think your old comrade will finally betray you?"

"He's dead." Jacob turned towards the window. The night outside left nothing but his own fuzzy image to discern. "He left me no other choice." For some reason, he felt compelled to justify his action further. "In war, there is collateral damage. We chased Saddam Hussein's henchmen; we chased the Taliban – and what stood in our way, was either providing us help or had to be removed. For a greater good! I'm still at war. It's just a different kind of war."

He could sense her rejection. He wanted to say more, or at least turn around and face her. However, he rested there like frozen. Suddenly the pain in his hand was a rather welcome distraction!

"The little boy I killed," Destiny's voice reached him after a while, "was only collateral damage, too. I shouldn't have freaked out because of snuffing him, right? But I'm a fuckin' loser!" She ended shouting.

Now Jacob spun around. The young woman crouched on the bed, crying.

He walked over and put his arms around her.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry…" was all she could manage at the moment.

"It's okay. Nothing to worry about."

"Don't talk to me as if I was a little girl!" Despite her efforts, she still sobbed. "I failed my comrades, my father and YOU! I'm quite simply a loser!"

"That's not true. Come on, pull yourself together!" He tried to give a harsh command to a soldier, but his voice was low and soft. The fingers which had just brushed her tears away, moved further in caressing circles over her face. When she lifted her head, their lips met in a hesitant kiss.


	8. Chapter 8

"_The strongest chains are the ones you don'__t notice."_

CHAPTER 8

Destiny was already awake for some time, but she didn't dare moving. She wanted to stop time as long as possible and hide a little while longer from the reality. Storm dragged at the old cabin from all sides. It seemed a metaphor of her life. At least it did not rain. And the sun was rising, touching the wall and Jacob's face with her golden rays. For sure he would wake up soon enough, too.

Destiny smiled, closing her eyes again and letting her mind drift while enjoying the warmth of his body next to hers. She hoped the last hours had been as much pleasure for him as for her. However, she was not sure. Being a 'lady soldier' was not exactly a profession what helped to develop certain skills! Most of her relationships so far had been hasty one night stands of the sort 'Let's have some fun, because tomorrow we might be dead or crippled'. Everything had been superficial. Most of the soldiers she knew had thought just the same. They had not dared to explore deeper feelings or relationships. Life was complicated enough when hostile bullets smashed all around you, bombs exploded and snipers hit out of nowhere…

Jacob moved slightly to get his face out of the light, but still he didn't wake up. Would it be any different with him, Destiny wondered. Suddenly disenchanted, she turned away, looked towards the window. Why should it be any different? Because she had wanted him that long? So she had made her teenage dream come true - and now what? As happened that often since the awful events in Afghanistan, her just sensed joy and satisfaction changed into sadness and desperation.

_I__'__ve killed a man. I__'__m a wanted murderer. I__'__m on the run. He is a wanted murderer. We have no where to go and the FBI is breathing on our necks. And he won__'__t stop. All fucking shit! _Destiny sat up and let her head sink in her hands.

Her movement startled Jacob. He sat up, too and put his arms around her. For some moments, he held her without saying anything His mind was at peace. Paula's memory had not been erased, neither had his love for her. It would stay in his heart forever. Destiny could never be a replacement. And: she should not be! Rather he could think of her as a new stone in the mosaic of life. An equally precious one, needing care and love.

"We have to hurry," he broke the spell. "I still need some practice shooting, before we leave this place. I can't set up another training area."

Destiny leaned back against his shoulder until she could meet his eyes. "We should leave and go to Mexico! To South America, wherever! Just away! Where the FBI won't find us!"

"I can't go."

Jacob stood up, wrapping his blanket around his body like some sort of antique toga. The cabin was uncomfortably cold this morning.

"I have a job to do. The man I'm after killed a girl, half your age, Destiny. In the ugliest way you can imagine. And he's about to walk away with only some wrinkles in his expensive suit! This won't happen, as long as I'm still able to stand and acquire a target!"

"Wait at least until your hand is healed! How is it, by the way?"

"As good as it can be under the circumstances," he answered, checking the yesterday applied bandage. "I can't wait. The court has rescheduled the final hearing. This monster will chill out in Switzerland, if I don't act within the next four days!"

Watching Destiny, Jacob wondered again, and very desperately this time, how the hell he could get her out of this all. Nothing came into his mind, though. Just like all the times before. Send her away alone was out of question. As inexperienced as she was, she would fall into the police's hands very soon – and then it would be his fault! Bringing her out of the country would mean he had to skip his special appointment; this was out of question, too. _Total crap! I__'__m the only protection she has!_

She stretched her hand and touched his arm. "So I'm not able to chain the 'Hand of God'?"

Jacob stared down at her, the words echoing in his mind. She wasn't an… obstacle to his mission just as Mark Leishinger had been, was she? He pulled her close and held her, just to convince himself that this was not the case.

"I think… it is time to fill you in with the details of the operation," Jacob finally said.

…

Seeley Booth glanced at the ceiling of his office and indulged a loud sigh. Another week was almost over and their team had made zero progress in the Broadsky-case. Dammit! He wanted this nightmare to end! Determined, the FBI agent picked up the phone and called one of his colleagues: the young woman who had photographed their nemesis some days ago while visiting the cemetery.

"We need to check Broadsky's contacts again! Every one! And the contacts of Bennett as well. No one can live completely on his own, without any interaction with the world. There has to be something!"

He could hear her silent objections, even though she answered only with a "Yes, Sir."

Booth's gaze wandered over the window. Rain poured down. _He__'__s going to hit again. I sense it. And soon…_He hated this feeling of helplessness, knowing that somewhere out there was a killer and he didn't know where. Or … when he would show up again.

…

Jacob had taken shelter in the Washington harbor again, in order to manufacture some ammunition. The equipment he used here had not been his own. He had merely stumbled upon the place some months ago. Maybe some mobsters had left it behind, he did not care. In any case, it was high class equipment and had just waited for him… First, he had got access to the harbor area without complications. However, after the increasing of the safety precautions, everyone needed an access card! Well, now he had one!

Jacob unpacked the material for his planned artwork and started. If possible, he preferred to make the bullets for his operations himself. This gave him the utmost control over everything; the chance to exclude any faulty work from the process. Carefully, he filled the first swaged core into its prepared jacket. The action was a little more difficult with only one hand. It would take more time. He tried to move the fingers of his right hand so he could at least grab the necessary crank of the machine, but had to renounce. For now at least! He searched the pain relievers in his pocket and swallowed two. It was pretty strong stuff; it should help!

While waiting for the drugs to kick in, Jacob's thoughts wandered to Destiny. She had brought him back to the city, and now waited in some abandoned building near the harbor. He hoped that nothing would go wrong. _I can't lose her, _he realized, closing his eyes and listening to the multiple sounds of the workers outside. _I can't…_

The question was how close the FBI was sniffing already? How close was Seeley Booth? Only two hours later, Jacob Broadsky had the answer to that question, when his camera link showed the FBI team discovering Mark Leishinger's remains. So now the Jeffersonian had something to play with! But this wouldn't keep Booth occupied for long…

**3**** days later**

The elderly lady turned at her hearing device and watched the two surprise visitors, who wanted what exactly?

"Checking the roof for the installation of solar energy equipment," the man repeated. He was tall, handsome and spread an aura of trustworthiness. Nonetheless, Mrs. Stevenson hadn't got any note from anyone because of the installation of … whatsoever!

"It will only take half an hour, and we won't make any noise." The man smiled.

"It's for the environment," the woman added. "For the Polar Bears, you know?"

Mrs. Stevenson scrutinized the two people again. No, they really did not look like robbers or tricksters… The telephone in her apartment rang. "Fine," she decided with a huff. "I'll open the exit to the roof." Her hand wandered in her skirt's pocket and fumbled for the keys.

…

With a sullen metallic clank, the door fell shut again. Jacob breathed a sigh of relief and shot a glance at his watch. "About time! Take your position and make sure no one disturbs us!"

Destiny nodded and Jacob started to unpack his weapon. He installed it near the edge of the roof and adjusted the scope. His target was approximately 1,8 km away, in an angle of 30 degrees downwards. Some park tree's branches, the position of the sun and the wind made the operation a tricky one. Broadsky was confident and calm, though. He was best prepared. His equipment was excellent. The time of his target had come. He peered through the scope and checked the garden of the clinic. Still, there were some patients and personnel outside. However, it was almost 6.30 PM and they would have to report back to their rooms any minute.

Destiny stood next to the door, Jacob's H&K at the ready, when she heard steps from the staircase. A moment later, Mrs. Stevensons voice reached her: "Do you want some coffee, by any chance?"

"No!" Destiny nearly shouted, before she had herself under control again and could continue: "No, thank you Ma'am. We have a tight schedule today."

Jacob had turned around. Suddenly, the young woman felt sweat run over her forehead. Her heart raced. This grandma wouldn't come up and open the door, wouldn't she? And she wouldn't have to—No. The steps moved down again. Destiny was trembling inside.

Jacob turned his attention back to his scope. Now, he had the window of his target's room in the crosshairs. Some minuscule last adjustments, laser range finder on – then he was definitely ready. Shortly after, a short flash of mirrored sunlight indicated the target was about to open his window, just like any evening. And there this bastard was! His chest right in the center of the crosshairs… With a fast, swift movement Jacob pulled the trigger and watched, how his victim fell backwards.

Within the next blink of an eye, the sniper was on his feet again. "Done!" he whispered in his companion's direction. "Let's pack up!"

More then happy, Destiny shoved her gun into the belt and helped him to properly store the rifle in its inconspicuous casing. Only five minutes later, they took place on Jacob's bike and raced out of the city.

….

The FBI team was about to finish this day's shift and Seeley already half out of his office, when the call from the police reached him. Hearing the news, all he could do was swear. So he had been right; Broadsky had hit again! Well, he could've lived without the satisfaction of being right this time! Booth called his team back together and briefed them with the information from the police.

A shot from a nearly impossible distance, right through the heart. A bad guy slipping through justice as a victim. No trace of the sniper. This was a pattern, to which the FBI agent and his colleagues meanwhile reacted almost allergic.

"I want Broadsky nailed!" Seeley had insisted, before he hushed his people out securing evidence. However, he knew his wishes were one thing – the skills of his opponent quite another.

…

It was shortly before midnight, when Destiny and Jacob reached the unconventional looking church building in the small town. The young woman felt remembered at a castle in one of the cheap cartoons, when she saw it. These little towers with these onion shaped roofs would have been very funny, hadn't she been that tired.

"You're sure this is a good idea?" she asked again. "What if he calls the cops? And… I'm not the religious type… Let's just rent a room in a motel."

"This would be fare more dangerous, trust me." Jacob stepped ahead. "I know Father Sergey since I was a child. He's a good soul. Too good for this world, maybe…"

He pushed the door bell at the little house next to the church, then knocked and rang again. Eventually, he heard some shuffling steps, and then the door was opened. In the light of the floor Destiny discerned a frail looking old man with a long beard. She hadn't a very good feeling, when the old-timer's eyes wandered over them. But then, the deep wrinkles around the man's eyes curled even more and announced a smile.

"Jacob! You always visit me at a time I least expect!" He stretched his arms for a friendly embrace. "You look more and more like your father! For a moment, I almost thought… but who is your company? Don't tell me, you never introduced me to a beautiful daughter of yours, Jacob!"

"No. The daughter of a friend. I thought you could give her a shelter for some nights, Father."

Destiny took the old man's hand and had fear to break it.

"You are in trouble, both of you," The old priest simply stated, but nonetheless stepped aside to let them in. "No, don't tell me anything, Jacob. I live in this country for 65 years now, and before I settled here, I was in New York. You know how many people in smaller and bigger trouble I met? Especially among the Russian and Bulgarian emigrants?" Sergey shuffled along to the kitchen. "It isn't my business. If someone knocks at my door and asks for help, I'll provide him with what I'm able to give. Just as our good Lord did. – Here, have seats!"

He gestured to the not very stable looking chairs at the table and turned towards the cupboard.

"I don't trust him," Destiny whispered. Her eyes caught the old icon on one wall, showing the Virgin Mary and child. The large dark eyes of the painting seemed to look straight through her mind.

"It's enough he trusts you," Jacob replied with a short half-smile.

Destiny suppressed a sigh and forced a friendly thank you, when Father Sergey put two glasses of milk in front of them. She felt in need of something much stronger! Or at least a cigarette!


	9. Chapter 9

The door closed behind Father Sergey, and the two surprise guests were alone in the room of the vicarage. Destiny's eyes had followed the old priest full of disbelief. "He isn't afraid we could steal something while he's gone?"

"Look around," answered Jacob. "What should a robber take away from here? Not even the church has any items valuable on the black market. Poverty is the best shielding. – Let us catch some sleep! I want to go back to the city early in the morning." He sat down on the mattress in the corner and stretched his legs.

"Why do you have to go back?" She asked, not quite able to hide her sorrow. "Your job is done! The guy is dead!"

"It is never done." When she alighted next to him, he put his arms around her. "I have to try to reach Seeley Booth again."

"This FBI dude? The hell why are you wanna do that?"

"Because he is the one who could stop this hunt for me, Destiny!"

"But he never will! Didn't you already try to convince him? Jacob, listen to me, this is crazy!"

"We served together in Afghanistan. He saw the same shit going on. I … still can't believe he has his eyes closed that tightly now! I have to go!" Jacob leaned back.

Destiny laid her head on his chest and listened how he fell asleep. _Just like a baby_, she _thought. He has really a clear conscience… But I__'__m afraid. I__'__m that afraid!_

…

In the Washingtonian FBI HQ, Seeley Booth's team was still at work despite the late hour. The FBI had got hold on Krazinski after an anonymous hint, eager to get the offered award for any information about Jacob Broadsky. Some suspicions against the man existed already, concerning his involvement in illegal prostitution and drug dealing. However he had slipped through so far. Now, agent Booth would not mind if they finally could nail Krazinski with something substantial! But it did not look promising…

Sitting in the interrogation room, Krazinski was all collected serenity. He sat leaned back, hands folded on the table. "I told you I have never seen this …what was his name? I'm not too good with names, you know."

Seeley Booth hissed through his teeth. "Someone saw Broadsky entering your bar!"

"Maybe he entered my bar. Maybe not. Have you ever been to such a place? It's dark, it's crowded, people come and go, grab their beer – I don't take photographs of them. I sell them alcohol!"

"And black market medicine!"

Krazinski raised his hands and shook his head. "I don't know what you're talking about! But one thing I know: I'm going to file a complaint against you! I'm a honest tax payer, not some illegal immigrant you can push around!" Krazinski saw absolutely no reason why he should betray a good client like Jacob Broadsky to the FBI. He had killed someone? Okay, who had not? This was not his business! He wasn't from the Salvation Army, too!

Another officer stepped closer and scowled down at him. "We can make you talk!"

"Am I in Guantanamo or what?"

Booth hushed his eager colleague aside and, gathering all his composure, started again: "What about this woman? Looks familiar to you?" He held a photograph of Destiny Bennett in his direction.

Krazinski blinked.

He remembered and immediately decided that the girl was not worth it. He would throw the FBI guys some candy…."Yes, the girl. Hot chick, eh? And what a coincidence. She came and asked me about this… this…Bansky-guy, too."

"And your answer?"

[i]This trap was an insult to my intelligence, man![/i] Krazinski thought and sighed. "I couldn't help her. Poor thing. Maybe the guy had dumped her, how should I know? Can I leave now? It's nearly 4 pm, I have to take care of my business!"

Booth's hand made him drop back on his chair. "Not before you've finished yours with us! – So, you admit Destiny Bennett was in your bar and she asked for Broadsky. – Tell me a bit more about her! Tell me EVERYTHING!"

Five hours and the 'interviews' of a fast-food-restaurant worker and a filling station attendant next to Krazinski's bar later, the FBI knew that Destiny Bennett had left the area not alone. She had mounted the bike of some guy, who had made a great scene that evening. Sadly, no one could say a word about the man's appearance, because he wore a helmet. Nonetheless, they had the model of the bike and a partial licence number. This was more than in all the previous weeks, Seeley Booth thought relieved, when he walked to his car in the early morning. At the moment, a team worked to find all possible combinations of the number on the licence plate, and then they would check the owners. With any luck…. He yawned. It was really time for a break!

…

Freezing in the cold morning air, Destiny stood in the yard behind the little wall, leaned against Jacob's bike and stared out onto the street, where he just had vanished. On foot, because he wanted to get a cab somewhere the next corner, as soon as he had brought enough distance between himself and Father Sergey's church.

Destiny's hands moved over the handle bar. She was very close to jump on the machine and race after Jacob!

She startled when Father Sergey's hand touched her arm. "Come inside. I will celebrate the morning service and include a special prayer!"

She had to restrain not to shout that she did give a fuck about religion and similar stuff. Pressing her lips together, she shook her head.

"If God had wanted the men to be guardian angels for each other, he would've given them wings, you understand?" The old priest said.

"Shit!" Destiny simply burst. "Jacob is the only person on the whole fuckin' world who cares about me! And HE is the only person I care about! And he's going to get killed!" She punched her fists against the handle bar and gave up fighting her tears.

She did not know how long she stood there, until the sound of the church bells finally reached her. Without really knowing why, the young woman walked over, entered the building and leaned against the backside wall. Some elderly people had come to the service, singing along with crispy broken voices. Destiny couldn't decide if she found this funny or touching. Everything was so… weird and out of place, or better, out of time! Somewhere outside, Jacob was driving back to Washington, right into the – for sure – prepared trap of the FBI. And these oldtimers here…? Nonetheless, Destiny did not leave again. Something held her back. Maybe it was the eyes of the large icon there, a Mother Mary with Child again. They did not look that frightening like on the copy she saw in the kitchen yesterday, but full of warmth and almost… alive. Unnoticed by her conscience, her mind formed the words _Help me, help him! Somehow! Do something! Don__'__t let him get shot! Help us! _

Destiny wiped over her face and felt more tired than ever. _What am I thinking? This is all nuts! _She stared ahead, where Father Sergey just made some ritual with incense.

…

Seeley poured some coffee into his huge pot and savored the scent. Nothing was as good as the first coffee after an all too short night! His ringing phone terminated the relaxation period violently. He grabbed the receiver and murmured a grumpy „Booth. Hello?"

One of his colleagues, the young Fontero, was at the other end of the line. „Good news! He announced enthusiastic. „First, we found the owner of the bike: a Robert Hayes."

„Great." Booth rolled his eyes. The name did not ring any bell. „Anyone checked this guy out yet?"

„This is the second good news!" The grinning of Fontero was almost audible. „Grabner went over to the licensing office an hour ago," he answered. „The woman at the reception said she remembered Mr. Hayes well, because he was - quote - that polite and that good looking. Well, Grabner showed her the photo, and guess, it was our man!"

The face of the tired FBI agent lightened up. „Have you informed the Highway Patrol yet?"

„Yes. Sometimes, it is just not an advantage to look good, he! This time, Broadsky won't slip through our fingers!"

„I hope so." Seeley hung up and repeated. „I really hope so…" He stood there another moment, then he hurried into the bathroom.

About ten minutes later, the FBI agent was on his way. He had not reached his car, when his cell phone beeped. Thinking it might be Tempe perhaps, he fumbled after the device and activated it before looking at the display, where a 'number unknown'-sign was shown. A second later, he felt coldness tickling down his spine, when he heard the voice. No, not Bones at all! But Broadsky! „How did you get my number?" Seeley dove into the next available corner and pressed his back against the stone. It was a pitiful cover nonetheless!

„I was always a good tracker," the other man answered.

The FBI agent let his gaze wander over the area. Of course he could not see anything. But he was relatively sure, his opponent had him in clear focus! Dammit! „You have LOST track, that's it!" he answered, still glancing around.

„There are people who might think the justice and the law of this country have lost track, Seeley. Shouldn't they serve the innocents, the victims, the helpless, the defenseless? And yet criminals walk free to make more people's lives miserable! Little car thieves sit in prison, however gangsters who are responsible for the devastation of dozens of lives, roam around freely."

„I'm not interested in hearing your perverted views!" Booth retracted along the wall, in order to reach a garbage container.

„Because you know I am right?" asked the bodiless voice from his cell phone.

„Because you waste your time!" He had to give his colleagues a sign so they could retrace this call! But he needed a little bit more cover -

„Stop moving! Let me see your other hand! Good. You forget that I'm a professional! I could kill you right away and remove the obstacle you have become!"

The FBI agent clenched his teeth. Where the hell was this bastard? He wanted to play a little game? Okay, he would throw his chips on the table and wait for a mistake of his enemy! Time. He needed time… to distract Broadsky! „Nonetheless, you don't shoot me," Seeley started. „Because YOU know this would be wrong! You know I try to do what I can to help law and order prevail! Countless other-"

„Yes. That's why you made Paula kill herself. So that law and order can prevail. How do you sleep after that?"

„Do you want me to say I'm sorry?"

„I want you to start thinking!"

Did his opponent get nervous and thus let his vigilance slip long enough to…? Booth's left hand slightly moved down into the direction of the other celly in his possession, the one Broadsky had ‚delivered' him on the cemetery. No interruption. Further… Further… Exactly one second before he had reached the other device, a little signal notified him, that the connection had been terminated. A game indeed. And unfortunately, his playing partner had stayed a nose's length ahead! Or better, a rifle's length!

When the FBI agent arrived in his office, his colleagues reacted surprised to find him in that dark mood. Hadn't they just delivered formidable results?

„Hey, I know we haven't presented you the man on a dish complete with icing and cherry on top, but no need to-" said Fontero.

„I just spoke with Broadsky!" Booth cut the young colleague off.

His face dropped. „You're kidding, right? The police and the FBI have mobilized everything able to walk and hold a gun!"

Seeley smashed his suitcase on his desk and peeled his jacket off. „However, Broadsky is here in Washington, and some minutes ago, he sneaked in a perimeter of 1 to 2 km around my house, having me in his crosshairs!"

„Don't let this get to you! - This will be his final mistake. Now we get him! He doesn't have a cloaking device!"

„Yep, he's too good looking, remember." Fontero tried to cheer up the situation, but this time even his Hispanic good humor failed.

Seeley was simply not in the mood for any joke. He sat down, switched his computer on and faced his colleagues again. „Broadsky seems to think he can still … convince me somehow that he's one of the good guys," he told. „He is waiting. And this will be our last chance to get him! We will make him believe what he wants to believe! Understood?"

…

Meanwhile, Jacob Broadsky crossed the checkpoint of the Washington Harbor like many times before, waving the guard a friendly Good Morning. He needed to swallow some new pain relievers, then wait and rest, what Booth would do. The FBI would not suspect him in the harbor, because they did not know he had an access card. So far, he was safe here. And at night, he could hack into the computers, using Paula's old master code, and see, what was going on…


	10. Chapter 10

Under gigantic flood lights, the work in the Washingtonian harbor continued even at night. Only some areas lay in darkness and a relatively silence. Broadsky's hiding place was one of them. The old forgotten rusty ship moved lazily on the waves between some huge container freighters. Inside however, was everything but tranquillity!

Jacob stared at the glowing screen of his laptop, the only light in the room, and could not believe what he just had read! It was an internal report of an FBI officer, one of Seeley Booth's staff. He had found it merely by accident, while looking for the measures taken up by the Federals against himself. But this was worse than anything what they might have planned…

'_I arrived at Miss Paula Ashwaldts apartment 8.30.' _he could read_. 'When I entered, she was just about to phone Broadsky and warn him. I could hear her asking someone, when he was expected back. I entered with my weapon at the ready and ordered her to drop the call and raise her hands. She reacted very upset, almost hysterical. I repeated my command. Now she let the phone drop, but reached with her right hand after something. I thought it was a weapon. I knew she had the right to have a weapon in her office. I shot in assumed self-defence. I did not want to kill her, but she moved into the wrong direction. It was an accident…'_

Jacob saw her die a second time. He got the news of her death a second time – and all wounds were ripped open again. _Suicide, right, Booth? Wasn't that the official version? Did you knew about it and lied into my face? To protect your poor innocent colleague who just had murdered someone?_ He did not even feel the nagging pain in his broken hand anymore. From the blink of an eye to another, his old comrade Seeley Booth had become more than just a boulder in his path, an increasingly annoying obstacle: he had become part of the enemies' lines! All hopes Jacob still had harboured to bring Booth at his side somehow, crushed that very moment.

_Suicide… so it looked like my fault! So I would feel guilty and surrender at once?_

Not able to look anymore at this report, he stood up and paced through the naked, cold environment of his hiding place. Pain and anger burnt inside him. He knew he was very close to cross the thin line which had always separated him from a psychopathic revenge path…

Mechanically, he took the rifle from its casing and prepared the weapon with fast, swift moves.

_Destiny!_

The thought caught him one instant before he finally had set foot on that other way. He leaned back, breathing deeply. _I can't leave her alone. I can't fail her!_ Fully aware of everything again, Jacob put his rifle back and looked out of the little porthole onto the harbour. No, he wouldn't get out of control on a frenzy revenge ride! This was not his mission! He closed his eyes, suddenly feeling a quite painful longing for Destiny's company.

…

Some miles away in the vicarage, the young woman was awake the same and pondered about what she could and should do. Father Sergey had been very kind to her. He had assured her several times, everything was in God's hands and she should stop worrying, because He would make it alright. Nonetheless, Destiny was not the person to lean back after such statements. She wanted to take things in her own hands. Especially when it came to her loved ones! Considering that, she hadn't been that good, of course. But this did not mean she could just sit here and wait! She aligned some curses to a long nasty row and turned around. Still open-eyed, she faced the icon in the kitchen's corner again.

_I just want to be with him, is that too much to ask? We can start anew somewhere and be just nice people! If we only can get out of this, away! Far away! _

Maybe Father Sergey had smiled, if he would have heard Destiny trying to bargain with the 'higher powers'. But he was in the church, and the young woman was alone with her fear and desperation.

**Two days later**

Jacob Broadsky climbed into the operator's cab of the tower crane and rested for a moment. The crane had been a gift from heaven, so to speak. It stood in a distance from his target – the Jeffersonian – that was still reachable with his skills. No one would disturb him here. The less, because the construction site was closed that day because of some material shortage, as he had figured out. But Seeley Booth would be in the Jeffersonian, just as every Thursday at a specific time. And there, he would get him. Jacob was all cold determination again, when he thought that. No distracting emotions…

…

This morning, Destiny's decision was made. She would ride back to Washington and get Jacob out! Father Serge might object to that, saying Jacob had told her explicitly to wait for his return – but Destiny did not care. She would not just sit here around and let things happen. Until now, she had not heard about any success of the police. So Jacob was still free. And she would make sure it stayed that way, she promised herself!

After checking her rifle like a soldier going out to battle, she marched to the bike. The morning prayers sounded from the church, meant that Father Sergey couldn't make any attempt to hold her back. The better! She took place and started the engine.

It was about 30 miles before Washington, when Destiny discovered the police car. First she thought it might follow someone else. But when she took the next exit and it was still behind her, she was sure she was the target. As she wore a helmet, it had to be the bike itself what ignited their attention… Whatever! It was of no use musing about this now! While speeding ahead, the young woman tried to calculate her chances. The police already signalled her. She had to get rid of the machine as quickly as possible.

…

Up in the tower crane, Jacob Broadsky watched the schemes of the people in the Jeffersonian on his infrared screen. Shortly ago, a fourth person had joined the others already at work in the lab. Supposedly Seeley Booth. But the sniper had to be absolutely sure! He took his cell phone and dialled the specific number of his target…

…

Meanwhile in a little farm area, Destiny turned into another road and almost crashed the bike in the curve. The police was very close, and they shot to get her tires. Shit! Another sharp turn, and she was under way in the opposite direction; then left again. Right in front of her was a wooden fence and a pick up truck. There was no time to think anymore. Within seconds, the police would be in sight again! Destiny sped on, jumping off the bike in the last moment. The police car stopped in order not to be swallowed by the ball of fire and smoke.

…

The split of a second after the scheme on his screen had taken the phone, Jacob pulled the trigger. A part of him wished to be able to fly along with the bullet and see with his own eyes how it reached its destination. However – this wasn't the fate of a sniper! When the scheme sunk on the floor, Jacob started to repack his equipment as fast as he could. Time to vanish!

…

Destiny needed all her strength to pull herself together, while she drove along the street in the old boltbucket she had just acquired on a scrapyard. Every fibre in her body wanted to flee and hide, certainly not being out in the open, while police was everywhere for sure. But to run would draw attention for sure. This was the worst thing she could do. They had shot people in Afghanistan just because they were running.

Her body was covered with bruises and burns. At a gas station, she had stolen a boilersuit to replace her dirty and ragged clothes. The thing was twice her size and rubbed uncomfortably at her skin, but she had had no other choice. She hoped, the police would be busy with investigations and think she had died in the crash. This would give her some time! Sadly, she had to leave her rifle behind – what felt a bit like losing an old friend. It had accompanied her through the war, after all!

Odd things flashed through her mind, while her glance rushed over the traffic and the people on the sidewalk. _Will I come out of this alive? – I don't want to be in prison. – Dad would be ashamed if he saw me now… would he? – I screwed everything up. – I'm hungry. – I'm afraid. – I want a child from you, Jacob. _A loud honk catapulted her back in reality. She had just been about to cross a red traffic light! Out of another car, a guy yelled something sounding like 'corn ball morons'. Destiny wiped over her face and swore. It would be really stupid now getting arrested because of any traffic violation wouldn't it?

Half an hour later, she had made it to Washington and turned direction harbour. There was plenty of space to hide in some abandoned storage hall near the old railway station. She planned to leave the car somewhere and then –

She slammed the brakes again, having seen the shadow of a man in the very last second. The next moment, a cry of surprise escaped her, when she stared down at Jacob.

He glared stupefied, too. "Destiny! What are you doing here?" Then, before she could answer anything, he climbed up into the seat besides her.

"I… I just had to see you!" was all she could manage, and it was in fact the essence of all her reasons. Honking let her veer out of the traffic and park the truck at the side.

The words and the desperation in her face let him forget all reprimands which had built up during the last seconds. It was too close to his own emotions; things he had locked up with some effort in the last 2 days! But now everything welled up again, and all he could do was embracing Destiny.

"Listen, Jacob! The police are on my heels! I don't know how, but they are! I had to sacrifice your bike and my rifle to escape!" she blurted. "You have to forget this damned Booth and we HAVE to leave! Please!"

He gave her a wry smile. "I can forget him indeed. I just killed him."

"But…"

"I'll explain." He shot a glance outside and saw a police car racing by. "If we live long enough!" His senses kicked back in. "It was a foolish thing to follow me back into the city! You know that. I can't take you with me through the check point, you have no access card." He hissed through clenched teeth and stared through the window again. The police car had not returned. Nonetheless, this place was far from being safe!

"You'll hide over there near the old train station, in one of the halls. I go back into the harbour area, get my stuff and fetch you as soon as possible," he decided.

…

The Jeffersonian team was still in shock after the loss of one of its members. Of course, they were too professional to stay paralyzed by their grief. However, inside every one still burned the question why Vincent, the most innocent of them all, had to pay the price. Anger and determination were mixed in this question. An end had to be put on that – and it had to be put now!

Most members of the team as well as FBI and police worked over night. When a very resolved agent Booth returned early morning, Hodgins presented him his findings: "Broadsky did not only steal Leishingers rifle! He took something else."

"And what exactly?"

"A chip card! Like these…" He called up a page on his computer.

Booth took only a short look, then he grabbed his cell phone and notified his FBI colleagues: "Get me Leishinger's boss! I want him in for questioning within the next 30 minutes!"

…

The first sunrays danced over the harbor installations, when Jacob Broadsky was on his way back. Finally. Making love to Destiny last night could very well evolve into the fatal and final mistake of his life. It had been too late to get access to the harbor yesterday, and thus he had to wait until the early shift rolled in for work. Enough time for the police to close the net tighter! None of these facts had mattered last night, though, when they held each other. He was sure now, what he had with Destiny was more than a simple stress reliever. Exactly this weighed on his conscience. He might have put her in a danger with no way out. He might have pushed her down into the depression pool forever, if he lost his life now – or was dragged to jail…

Everything still seemed normal at the check point. No sign of police anywhere, no additional security procedures. However, how long would it stay that way? Moreover, how would the situation develop outside, where Destiny was hiding and waiting? Jacob had left her his gun, so she had something to defend with. He had taken his rifle along, so no suspicious item could be found next to her – in the case she was discovered by law and order.

Now he had to hurry, disassemble his bullet making machinery and get out again! He planned to hijack one of the smaller boats and then leave US territorial waters direction south. The ground beneath his feet had really become too hot to continue his mission. For now at least, and in this part of the States!

…

Seeley Booth left the interrogation room to contact and brief the Jeffersonian team again.

"Broadsky was somewhere in the harbor," he reported. "The access card he stole is used to enter the customs-free area of the harbor! And something tells me… he is still there! It is a perfect base of operations for a man like him." Booth hated the thought, but he had to admit, he would do exactly as his opponent. "He just didn't think we would find out about the card…"

"And we found out another thing!" That was Hodgins at the other end. He had set his jaws into this and not rested one minute. "Harbor is perfect, because I discovered traces of seasalt within the analyzed bullet! But we can narrow the area further, listen up…"

Seeley felt a spike of adrenalin race through his body, when he heard the rest of the findings. This matched an area approximately 1 km² - a very small space indeed, compared with the fact they had no clue about Broadsky's whereabouts yesterday! Now they would hunt him down! He would sit there feeling safe and sound, and they would get him!

The FBI agent walked faster, while calling his colleagues and giving orders: "Shawn, you come with me! Peterson, get me a SWAT team ready to deploy in the harbor, the area around Keevols Industries! Hillerman, you organize air support! I want a helicopter patrol! Pradesh, inform the harbor authorities, they should clear the area of all personel and stop any boat who tries to leave!"


	11. Chapter 11

Destiny was hiding as close as possible to the harbor's eastern check point. Peering through one of the shattered windows of an old storage hall, she waited for Jacob. The black vans with the SWAT teams were the first thing from the ongoing police operation she discerned. Then more police cars showed up. Officers deployed. And a helicopter closed in.

For sure they were after Jacob, and not after her. Destiny realized this with a cold certainty. Somehow the FBI must've figured out about his supposedly safe retreat! Maybe they thought, she was with him and they could catch them both…

_I SHOULD be with him, _the young woman thought, staring at the gathering forces of law and order. _I should do SOMETHING! – Goddamned shit! WHAT shall I do? _

She weighed the gun in her hand and let her gaze wander through the remains of the hall. The opposite wall was decorated with various graffiti. One of them, a pair of black eyes, reminded Destiny at the icon in Father Sergey's vicarage. _Help me…help us!_

When the sound of the chopper reached her, she flinched away from the window, searching cover in a corner. The helicopter landed on the open space in front of the hall, as she could observe from her place now. One man jumped out, moved into the direction of her hiding place. Destiny froze and her hands clutched the gun. They knew she was here? No… no wait! The guy just had to take a leak! She almost laughed. Poor officer needed a spot to pee and – Thinking that, her smile petrified. He was close, THAT close! Within reach! Then, she even stopped thinking. She put the gun aside and closed her hands firmly around a rusty pipe lying around. With fast steps she sneaked out of the door, after the unsuspecting police man, who was just about to close his pants again. A final step! Destiny swung the pipe down on the man's head. He went down without uttering a sound.

The young woman stared only for the blink of an eye. Had she killed him? No, highly probably not, but this did not matter! As fast as she could, she ripped the uniform from his body and redressed.

When she hurried back to the chopper some minutes later, the pilot growled without – thanks God – taking a closer look: "What the fuck took you so long? This is not a leisure flight, dude!"

Destiny ran. The rotor of the helicopter was already moving – very good. It would drown the other noise she was about to make. The pilot checked the instruments and turned the other way. Destiny lifted her gun. _It's for Jacob, _she repeated in her mind. _It's our only chance! _

She fired. One time, then a second time, just to be on the safe side. The pilot slid out of the seat. With some effort, she dragged him out completely and snatched his headset. She had flown military choppers! All she needed now was concentration. She breathed deeply to keep the sudden sick feeling down. There was no way back anymore in any case!

…

The unmistakable sound of police walkie talkies let Jacob Broadsky turn his attention from the packing. He shot a glance out of one pothole and – was shocked, to say the least. Approximately 20 meters away, on a sort of catwalk between two platforms, stood Seeley Booth. Alive and well and armed!

_Whom have I shot, then? _The answer coming to his mind was unpleasant. Collateral damage… yes. But he had produced a lot of that lately. Too much… _I have a mission! I have a job to do! I have - Destiny! _He took his rifle and left his hiding place for the final, decisive hunt.

Booth was on the prowl alone, Jacob realized some moments later, while sneaking after his opponent. The FBI agent could've sent in half a squadron of specialists to take his victim down (and for sure he had them waiting outside the perimeter), but he wanted to do it the old fashioned way, it seemed! Man against man, rifle against rifle. A deadly poker game where speed and precision counted.

A game Jacob Broadsky had won very often in his life. However now, with a broken hand, this was a hazard game! There was no time to install his rifle and wait, he had to be active. Booth's ego which let him go hunting alone might be his only chance… His senses were sharp and alert, collecting every little sound around him. It was remarkably silent. The FBI must've locked down the harbor and evacuated some areas, he mused.

Jacob moved around a block of containers as carefully as he could. This place was a perfect labyrinth. If he didn't pay attention, he would be face to face with his opponent without having the chance to fire! He sneaked further. If he could get to the quay … then perhaps he could dive through the police perimeter and get out! A faint sound behind one of the containers made him freeze. He pressed his back against the metal and listened. Definitely steps closing in! He needed higher ground to observe and assess the situation!

Some half sized containers nearby provided what Jacob searched for. As fast as possible he climbed up to the highest level of the stapled goods, stretched out on top and brought his rifle in position. It was a good spot - but not enough time to prepare. Seeley Booth just got in viewing range…

The shot echoed between the metallic walls. His opponent swore loudly. Maybe the bullet had scratched his skin - that was ALL. Broadsky pressed a curse through his teeth and grabbed his rifle again to relocate.

"You missed!" sounded Booth's voice over the area.

_So you feel the necessity to laugh and boast like a schoolboy?_

"Happens to the best of us!" he retorted nonetheless.

"Not to you!"

This meant he knew something was wrong with him! While retreating fast, Jacob swore again. It was always bad to give weaknesses away in a deadly duel! There was nothing he could do about it, though. Only pull back and see he could grasp another lucky opportunity. However, being on the run was not a very good condition for a sniper! And now he WAS on the run! Not thinking about avoiding the sound of his shoes on the gravel ground anymore, he hurried through the labyrinth in the direction of some disassembled and stored agricultural machines. He badly needed a hideout, a place to wait for the enemy!

The pursuit went on. So far, none of the opponents had been able to get a clear lock on the other and fire. Unfortunately, Jacob was moving away from the water now; he knew that well. The FBI agent drove the fox into the jaws of his hounds… The next bullet had to hit the target, or he was finished!

Jacob checked the area, and then crept to one of the next ready-to-load packages. He swung the rifle over his back and climbed up. Booth had to be right behind him, considering the sounds reaching him. From the corner of his eye, he even saw the FBI man cross an open space direction next row of containers. There, he would pose as good a target as it could be under the circumstances! Jacob took position and let his gaze wander over the expected perimeter. _Any second-_

He never finished the thought.

"Away with your weapon!" barked Seeley Booth from somewhere below. "I have you in the crosshairs; any false move and I pull the trigger!"

Jacob felt as if a giant hand weighed on him. Outmanoeuvred and beaten. His eyes searched for his opponent and found him crouching next to one of the cargo platforms. He must've crawled beneath it instead of running around… Smart move… Yes! A sad smile crossed his lips.

Maybe it was this, or just the fact he still held his rifle – Booth fired.

Pain exploded in Jacob's leg, he lost ground, fell and the split of a second later his whole body was one blazing pain. He gasped for air, squeezed his eyes to see through a sudden veil of tears. His head seemed to burst any moment. As hard as he tried, the image of the FBI agent remained blurred.

Like a victorious hunter posing with his finally hunted down prey, Booth set his foot on him. "Game over!" he whispered triumphantly.

"Do you… really think… you're on the good side?" Jacob attempted one last time to break through the shiny wall of triumph of his former comrade and friend.

"YES, I am!" The reply had the force of a second shot.

Jacob felt nauseated. His mind started to drift off towards unconsciousness. "Paula was shot! By one… of your…men!" He gathered the rest of his strength to spit the words in Booth's face. "And you… covered it up… to save… the FBI's clean record!"

What Seeley answered, he never heard, because the noise of an approaching chopper drowned every other sound.

…

Destiny glanced down and cursed. It did not look as if Jacob had been shot dead (no blood on his chest or beneath his head so far) however, she could not land in this narrow space. The FBI guy showed his badge as if to say 'Everything's fine, law and order prevailed'. She heaved the machine again and veered to the side. This was just an ordinary police patrol chopper who had to make sure the ground troops did well, wasn't it?

From above, Destiny observed how two other police officers hauled Jacob to his feet. He left a small trail of blood behind, and the young woman felt awful. _Can't they at least take a stretcher? They drag him away like a slaughtered animal!_

Nonetheless, she had to focus! The slightest mistake, and her – only vague, to be honest – plan was crippled completely! The police with Jacob and Booth arrived at the spot, where the vans of the SWAT team were parked. Orders were shouted, and obviously they prepared to get their prisoner in one of the cars. This, Destiny had to prevent in any case! Slowly, she lowered her helicopter down.

"Hey!" she shouted to get through the noise of the rotor. "Get Broadsky into the chopper! Orders from the boss!" She strongly hoped no one would ask her, if FBI-boss or police-boss or who the hell else! "He has to be brought in the hospital! He needs a special medication, they said, or he'll die!"

No one moved! Shit, it didn't work! Destiny sensed sweat dripping over her back and forehead, and her hands trembled. Some seconds passed. They seemed to last an eternity. Eventually, the FBI dude in the black suit nodded and gestured his colleagues to heave their prisoner in the helicopter.

"Are you alone?" one of the police queried shouting.

"Yeah! Any problem with that? Ya think a woman can't handle this?" she retorted aggressively.

"Nope. Just asked." He handcuffed Jacob and closed another chain around his ankles, before fastening both at the seat's bracket. The prisoner moaned, however displayed no further reaction.

"Okay, guys, now get out! We don't want this motherfucker croak before he's been sentenced!" She forced a laugh, while the police officers stepped back.

They were barely out of the rotor's reach, when she started again.

Destiny flew a wide circle, in order to make it look like as if she wanted to reach the Wilburcroft-Hospital. When she was sure the police following on the streets couldn't watch her chopper anymore, she turned south to the coast again. Some miles further, her late friend Dexter had had a fishing cabin… And a boat… She hoped at least it would be still there and not stolen or rotten or whatsoever.

She turned her head slightly to the rear. "Jacob? Jacob, wake up! It's me, Destiny!"

"Destiny…? I can't … can't see very well."

"You have a concussion, probably. Hang on!"

He said nothing more; maybe he had passed out again. Destiny was worried. She had not thought about getting medical assistance. What if he was seriously hurt, after falling down from this damned platform?

20 minutes later, the fishing cabin came within viewing range. It looked in good shape, at least from above, and the boat was there, too! _Thanks to God and all the powers of this crazy universe_, Destiny thought, while she landed. Jacob was unconscious, and not daring to shake him to hard, she splashed some water in his face.

"Jacob? I'm going to shoot up your chains, don't move!" She explained, when he opened his eyes. "Do you understand?" He nodded and she made her gun ready. Three precise shots later, he was free.

"I have to get you outta here. Can you sit up? … Okay, slowly!" He put his right arm around her neck and she tried to grab him around the waist as firm as possible and lift him up. She did not dare to pull and drag too roughly, fearing he might have some internal injuries. However given the fact he might weigh around 90, the young woman needed some effort, before she had Jacob out and crouching on the shore.

"Destiny, this is crazy!" he murmured. "The police will spot the chopper … and have us in no time! What-"

"I take care of the heli now! Don't worry about that, okay?" She helped him recline against one of the wooden poles. "How do you feel?"

"Like… shit… and I still can't see."

"Everything will be okay!" She needed to repeat this more for herself than for him. She cupped his head and pressed a hasty kiss on his lips, and then she ran to the chopper again.

This evidence had to vanish, indeed! It was good the tank was almost empty already. Destiny dumped some more fuel. After that, she flew up again direction open sea, where she jumped out. Swimming back to the shore, she heard the helicopter crash in the water some dozen meters behind her.

…

The fishing cabin was in fact barely more than a shelter made of old stakes, but at least a mattress was on the floor, and in a box some blankets and other useful tools, such as a first aid package. Destiny removed his pants. Blood dripped on the dirty floor and soiled her hands.

"Lay back! I have to take care of your leg! You're lucky; the bullet seems to have gone right through and not broken the bone."

Having applied the bandage more or less professional, Destiny decided that they both needed some hours of rest. However, a specific noise startled her.

No doubt, it was a chopper! Had the police found them after all? She grabbed her gun.

The helicopter sound stopped and given way to barked orders. Destiny held her breath. Her heart raced. Soon, closing-in steps sounded to her, too.

"Give me a weapon," asked Jacob. "I don't want to surrender like a helpless animal in a trap!" He squeezed his eyes in the vain effort to sharpen his view.

"I won't let them arrest you!" answered Destiny full of determination and kneeled down in front of him, and drew her second gun, the one she had taken from the police officer.

The steps were near now. The young woman felt ice cold, almost frozen. So this was it, the end?

"I love you, Jacob. I always loved you. You probably know that…"

The heavy footwear of the enemies echoed on the battered wooden steps.

-"Jacob Broadsky? … Open the door!"

"I'm armed and ready!" Destiny shouted back. "If anyone of you motherfuckers enters, I'll ice you! Do you understand?"

From behind the door sounded undecipherable whispering. Destiny clenched her teeth. Her fingers slowly went numb. "I want safe retreat! Do you hear me? Dammit!"

"Miss? Is Jacob Broadsky with you?"

"I'm here," he answered now, before she could say anything. "If you want me, get me. But leave my companion alone!"

"I'm not here to arrest anyone. "I'm unarmed, and I want to talk."

"That's a fucking trick! If you come in, I'll whack you, got it?" Nonetheless, Destiny trembled. Even more so, when she felt Jacob's hand on her shoulder.

"If I was out to harm you, I would've done so already," continued the voice behind the door. "Look behind you, out of the window!"

Her head whirled around and she found herself face to face with a gun barrel and a guy in full body armor. Surrounded.

"I assume you've grasped the situation? Good. I come in now. Lower you weapon!" The door opened, and in the slowly widening slid, the figure of a man became visible. Destiny's firearms clanked on the ground. Jacob blinked, still desperately trying to see better.

The man stepped into the room, arms spread to the side. He was middle aged, wore glasses and all in all looked like a banker, Destiny thought, prepared for everything but what followed…

"Was hard to track you down! - My name is Walter Philips. I work for the Secret Service. Mr. Broadsky, I'm here because the President needs your skills."

Both Jacob and Destiny stared at the man in disbelief. If this was some kind of sick joke…

"I assure you, there are several very bad guys who need to be very dead the sooner the better for our country," Philips continued. Meanwhile, another man with helmet and bullet proof vest had detached from the darkness of the staircase and leaned in the doorframe.

Jacob took a deep breath. He felt lacerated by the pain in various parts of his body, and very exhausted. What this man was saying was almost unreal! Was he hallucinating? "I guess, I have no other option…"

"If you don't consider lifelong prison or the death chair an option – no."

Jacob nodded. Then after a pause, he asked with a turn in Destiny's direction: "I'll go nowhere without the assurance of safety for her!"

Philips hesitated shortly, and then shrugged. "I think I'm able to cut something out for a 'Mrs. Hartville', too, once we relocate you. Until then, both of you will be the government's guests on the _USS Ronald Reagan._ We'll have a doctor take care of you there, too."

"What's with the FBI? And the police?" Destiny was still sceptical.

"Well…" Philips gave them a short half grin. "Let's just say you are two more criminals having slipped through justice!"

THE END


End file.
